Plurality
by sopmire
Summary: Tony and Wendy. Their past was more unsavory than anyone knew, and it was about to reach into their present. A Tony-centric story, but involving whole team and cases eventually. Adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is somewhere in season nine, about a month after 'Secrets' (aka the Wendy episode), pre-Dearing.  
__FYI, in the U.S. and other countries, an attorney assigned to represent the best interests of children, especially in custody cases, is called the Guardian ad Litem. And the canon pre-series timeline and ages can be somewhat confusing, so I just stuck to what made sense to me.  
__And all apologies, but updates will be a little slower than usual with this story.  
__Hope you like!_

* * *

Chapter 1

Leroy Jethro Gibbs blew sawdust off the rocking chair and eyed it critically, still trying to decide what color stain his Dad would like best. Or maybe it would be best with just straight varnish. Slightly pursed lips reflected his dislike of being indecisive.

The dark basement was highlighted in a chiaroscuro effect by the strong late afternoon sun, leaves outside causing the light to blink with every fresh breeze. The bright rays highlighted the left chair arm which Gibbs wasn't quite convinced was identical to the right. He loved early summer weekends like this; not on call, no rush to be anywhere, a fresh cool breeze blowing thru the propped-open basement windows, and his latest project nearing completion.

Stomach growling, he decided to wait till the sanding and possibly staining was done before heading out to the back deck to grill up some steaks. The day was just too nice to cook at the fireplace.

He heard the front door close and steps crossing to the kitchen before heading to the basement stairs. Smirking at himself, Gibbs hoped it was Tony - the younger man usually brought food or beer with him.

Sneaker-clad feet bounded energetically down the stairs. "Hey Boss! Great day out today yeah?" Tony set a six-pack down on the worktable along with a small but bulging brown paper bag.

Giving Gibbs a once-over, he grinned and said, "I know that look - it's a good thing I brought these then. Come get some while they're warm." He poured a heap of boiled peanuts out of the bag into one of the bowls he'd brought from the kitchen, and pushed a second bowl over to receive the empties. Grabbing his own empty bowl, two bottles of beer and the bag, Tony sprawled comfortably on the stair landing. His t-shirt and shorts clad form leaned up against the wall, legs stretched across the steps. Both men popped peanut shells and slurped or pried out the peanuts, drank their beer, and talked in intervals about last night's baseball game that hadn't wrapped up until midnight.

A mellow and satiated Gibbs finished off his last peanut, and had a small grin as he stood up. Raising his beer bottle in a toast to Tony, he said "Good peanuts, salty. Good timing too, was hoping to get the stain on before heading up."

Tony flashed one of his proud grins that made Gibbs' own widen. _Kid always gets such a kick out of a little honest gratitude._

For his part, Tony's slight buzz on his second beer was making him extra goofy about getting a little thing right for Gibbs. _It's not easy doing something to make that man smile._ "Yeah, Cromer's always gets it right. Don't want to know what Ducky would say about the salt."

Grunting in agreement, Gibbs stretched his back before he walked over and pulled out a fresh pack of fine-grain sanding paper. "So what's with the phone call yesterday? You gotta give an affidavit for which case?"

Eyes closing, Tony took another swallow in an obvious delaying move. "Hmm, yeah. Trying to believe that's going to resolve itself and not involve me. Custody case." He sighed while shaking his head. "Like I have any idea who the kid would be better off with. Let's hope the lawyers hash it out and leave me alone."

Both men raised their bottles in a toast.

"Friend? Something through work?"

"Hum. Guess she'd fall under friend category. Wendy's ex is suing for sole custody of their son."

Gibbs stopped his sanding for a moment, silent as he looked with raised inquiring eyebrows at Tony.

Raised hands and equal eyebrows answered him back, "I know! Why me, right? I had a few minutes and a car ride with their son. And lord knows I'm obviously no expert witness on parenting or anything."

Shrugging, Tony fiddled with his bottle label as he continued, "All I have with her is some history really, not a thing I'd care to talk about in a court for heaven's sake. I don't know. Just have to talk to the Guardian ad Litem on Tuesday, she'll decide if I have to show up in court. Guess I'll see what's what then."

Both men were silent for a while, lost in their thoughts. Gibbs finished the final sanding, wipe down and clean up of sawdust. He wasn't too surprised at the younger man's silence; Tony had gradually cut down on the chatter while in the basement to where it wasn't entirely unusual anymore. Well, actually the whole house. _Huh, either it's my house or me he's comfortable enough with. Or maybe just more comfortable inside his own skin. Whatever works._

Gibbs stared one last time at his selection of stains and paints. Picking up two cans of stain, he walked slowly closer to Tony. Obviously still trying to pick which color to use, he shook his head and he held the cans out to Tony, and decisively said, "Pick."

Wide eyes stared at the stain cans. "Ahuh. Umm… what's your wood?"

"Walnut. If I go red mahogany it'll get deep red like red wine. Go with dark walnut, it's more the classic dark brown. Both will show the grain off fine."

"And your Dad generally likes…?"

Exasperated, Gibbs answered, "I don't know. He seems to like everything. Or I just don't know. Just pick."

Understanding the dilemma now, Tony was glad to make Gibbs' life easier with a purely arbitrary decision. Tapping the mahogany, he declared confidently, "Go red. Good stand out gift color, and you had me sold at red wine. Plus, if he doesn't much care for the color, you can blame it on me."

A small grunt answered him, then as the older man turned away, "Pull out the box fan and aim it that way on low will you? Don't want to poison us with fumes."

After setting up and starting the fan, Tony settled closer in a stool but appeared lost in thought again as Gibbs prepared to paint.

Gibbs wondered if his team, his family, knew that just having to _choose_ to speak was enough to irritate him on a bad day. Luckily not today though, and rarely ever with Tony; exasperation being different than irritation. Eyeing his quiet SFA, Gibbs decided he'd have no regrets prodding Tony to get out whatever he was mulling over.

"Know you got some 'closure' with Wendy... was wondering why you didn't get back together. Figured you'd just grown too far apart."

A brief huff of breath answered him. "Yeah, there was that. But also… hmm. I know you know more than most Boss, but don't think you ever really understood me and Wendy. How we first got together, or how we broke up. I mean, I sure as hell wasn't talking about it when I first started working for you. Was perfectly fine with whatever conclusions you drew yourself."

Lips pursed in a slight frown, Gibbs answered, "Let me think you called it off. Sounds like a lot I don't know." He paused as he straightened the drip cloth under the chair. "Now… you know that bugs me."

Tony snorted, "Yeah, I know Boss."

"You feel like filling me in?"

The younger man took a deep breath. "Might get boring, you're not really into soap operas anymore than I am."

"I've had three divorces DiNozzo. I don't watch 'em on TV - I've lived 'em. You feel like talking, I got staining to do. I'm all ears."

"Well, shoot, that's every day Boss. Benefit of you not being much of a talker." Tony was silent for just a moment, before nodding, decision made.

"Yeah... thing is, if you'd known, you probably wouldn't have pushed me back in her direction."

Gibbs' frown was immediate, "Hell. Didn't mean to push you at her."

Raised eyebrows and a disbelieving look answered him.

A rare defensive sound entered Gibbs' voice as he waved a clean paint stir-stick in Tony's direction. "No. Just… you were the one in here at Christmas time talking about being ready for two cups. Thought a little… resolution would help."

"Yeah, it did overall I guess."

Gibbs was surprised when Tony stayed silent for another minute. He felt a tiny prickle of unease that he might be stirring up something more than a can of stain. Something in the younger man that was better off still instead of agitated. Except this court case was going to do it anyway apparently, so better to do it here first.

Tony finally spoke resolutely, "Well, always start at the beginning. You know where I met her, right? My music teacher in high school?"

"Just don't know why you call it high school half the time."

Tony affected a snooty drawl, "Well, 'my years at the academy' sounds a little over the top, not really the impression I like to make." Shaking his head, he continued, "She started at the school my senior year. We really hit it off. She was impressed with my piano chops and… me I guess. Offered private tutoring for free. I was impressed with… everything about her." He fell silent again, a soft smile on his face.

Gibbs suddenly stood up straight, looking over at his friend staring at the beer bottle in his hands, lost in thought. The older man felt very parental at the moment as an idea occurred to him. "You two fool around? With you underage?"

The question didn't appear to surprise Tony at all. He nodded slightly. "Hmm. I've been answering that question with a lie for… what... 24 years. Was pretty important to lie back then, her career and all. We didn't fool around at first, but then… we were together for about six months. She wasn't exactly my first, but man, it felt like it. Whole higher level of being with a woman than I'd even imagined at that age. Really… intense sometimes."

Hearing a sigh, Tony looked up to see Gibbs' troubled look. "Oh, don't misunderstand. I thought I was the luckiest seventeen year old guy on the planet. She was seriously _hot_, and she was only five years older than me. I mean I was sixteen when we first started, but turned seventeen pretty soon…" Seeing Gibbs' troubled look now include raised eyebrows, he hurried on.

"I know," he shrugged, "total double standard as opposed to a male teacher with a seventeen year old female student. Believe me, I know. But it's not like I was pressured or forced or something. I mean, sometimes it was a _little_… overwhelming…" he trailed off again.

Gibbs glanced over as Tony seemed lost in thought for a moment. Tony was hunched more than usual on the stool, head bent, the hand fussing with his hair also shielded his face. The older man shifted position to paint the front legs. _Dammit. Why the hell did some of my… grown kids have to have such messed up childhoods?_

Vague chagrin in his tone, Tony snorted before continuing, "Don't laugh, but it actually seemed scary every once in a while. But I figured it was just because I was young, you know?"

Gibbs was glad his back was now to Tony, so the pursed lips and eye roll weren't obvious. _Yes. I know. You weren't just 'young', you were too young for her dammit._

With a wry tone, the younger man continued. "Anyway. She saw something in me, encouraged me, gave me a lot of support and advice. I didn't have much of that back then, it was… I was besotted in love Boss."

Laughing lightly, he shook his head. "Thought we were both in love, but hers was a little different. She was always up front about me going off to college someday, and that I should 'experience life' without being tied to a long distance relationship. She was… considerate about it, didn't let me get too clingy, probably quite a skill with a starry-eyed seventeen year old."

_I'm sure she was very skilled, making sure he didn't tell anyone especially. Woman should have found someone her own age, not trained him how to be a player._ Gibbs grumbled to himself, not willing to interrupt Tony's chain of thought.

"Don't worry Boss, it's not like I'd ever do something like that myself, or ever did back when I was younger. And I've had no problem enforcing the law against that kind of thing. Anyway, semi-tearful parting scene aside, we split up when I went off to Ohio State. Didn't even really keep in touch. Missed her like crazy for a little while, but… like she expected, I got busy with school and training. Didn't have much time for angst."

Although Tony's self-deprecating huff showed the memory was no longer painful, Gibbs could easily imagine a young DiNozzo not only loosing his bedmate, but loosing her support as well. Once again drifting without any true connections that should have been provided by his family.

Gibbs decided not to entirely censor himself. His new opinion of Wendy obvious by his tone, "She should've at least sent a damn postcard."

"Heh. No. Clean break kinda thing. I just figured it toughened me up a little more… the heart's such a squishy thing sometimes isn't it? Temperamental. At the whim of chemistry."

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, "_Stupid_ chemistry! Just last month when I was in her house to take her and her son to the grandmother's? We're basically arguing, end up six inches apart and I can smell her and… good lord. Next thing you know we're going at it, stuck together like two magnets before the kid and nanny walk in. Stupid pheromones."

"Hmm." Gibbs intoned non-commitally. _Wonder if that's more like sexual imprinting considering he was barely post-pubescent when they started. One of the many questions I'll never ask Abby._

"So, you didn't have any contact up until she called you in Baltimore?"

"Right. She'd apparently followed my career a bit. Ended up in Baltimore at another teaching job, rang me up."

"You two talk about the underage thing?"

Tony smiled, "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no, never really came up. I mean we referred to it, not like we were pretending it hadn't happened. She would say how happy she was I'd turned out so well. Especially in the bedroom, she… ahh. I'm thinking that would be the TMI area, yeah?"

Smirking at him, Gibbs answered, "Ya think DiNozzo?" He had put the finishing touches on the rocking chair, and began cleanup for the night. "So if that was the beginnings I didn't know about, what's the ending I don't know about?"

Tony rubbed the back of his neck, "Oo boy. Talking about our dubious beginning is a lot easier than our disastrous ending."

Gibbs rinsed the brush in a jar of turpentine before leaving it sealed in cling wrap for tomorrow's final coat of varnish. "Well, a good steak makes everything better. Let's head up. Even got some potato salad. Can eat out on the deck."

"Boss, I like your concept of picnics! Although there is something to be said for cold fried chicken in the basket." He grabbed the remainder of the six-pack and the some of the peanut dishes as they headed to the stairs.

Picking up the brown bag of peanuts and the other bowl, Gibbs replied, "True. But I bet even Ducky would have to admit steak is better for you than fried chicken."

"Hmm, don't know. He might… grudgingly!" Tony laughed.

"Well, that's why I got the potato salad anyway." Gibbs put the bag in the fridge and reached for the beer pack in Tony's hand to put in also.

"How you figure…?" Tony grinned in anticipation of his Boss' sense of humor.

"Says _salad_."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Just to clarify, I'm proceeding under the age of consent where & when Tony was in school was 18. It was wisely pointed out to me (thanks Scouse!) that some places it's 16. Thanks to everybody for reading/reviewing/following/PMing etc! And special props to fellow SouthEaster Gibblette for the peanuts catch; Cromer's is real, just happens to be in Columbia S.C. "guaranteed worst in town"._

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Chapter 2

The warm day was beginning to cool off as the setting sun shimmered through the trees in Gibbs' backyard. The two men in deck chairs ate in silence, finishing up their meals. A slow moving storm front on the way from the south had turned the gentle breezes to refreshing but fitful gusts, knocking over Tony's empty beer bottle sitting next to his chair. Picking it up as he stood, he held his empty plate out to Gibbs to receive his empty on top as well. "You want anything? I'm going to get dessert."

Mouthing '_dessert?'_ curiously, Gibbs held up his almost empty beer bottle.

"Perfect, you'll like this, I just know it."

Gibbs stretched out his legs and enjoyed the wind show… more curious than he wanted to admit what Tony was returning with. And silently shook his head, not for the first time, that the man had turned out as well as he had considering all the crap in his past. Of course that applied to half the people on the team, himself included.

He'd just polished off the last of his beer when Tony stepped back out with a bakery box, and two drinks. Handing one bottle to Gibbs, he said, "Either that's your dessert, or these cookies are. Or both. I'm switching to soda, but that in your hands is coffee beer Boss. Truly a brilliant combination for you, yeah?"

Gibbs read the label suspiciously, "Pipeline Porter. Kona coffee?" Taking a swallow, his eyebrows shot up appreciatively. "Weird." He took another sip then eyed the label again. "Good. Huh."

"Hah, knew you'd like it!" Tony crowed as he opened the box of cookies wide. "No idea if that goes with these. Chocolate chunk and pecans, but Ducky would be happy because…" he held up one large cookie and leaned over to point at tiny pieces of something red, "Guess what these dried cranberries mean?"

Both men grinned at each other and simultaneously said, "Fruit!"

A short time later, Gibbs said around a mouthful of cookie, "So… disastrous?"

"Oh, hmm, yeah. You know, I think you're onto something with this whole closure dealie. You were right, I needed to… deal with it. Thought I had really, but not very well apparently. It's not so… unbelievably hard to think about anymore. Talking about it's just one more step I guess."

Tony looked sideways at Gibbs and worried, as he often did, who helped the older man with his own skeletons in the closet. _Especially with all that he does for the team… for me._ If Gibbs acted like a grade A bastard half the time, the other half he was a damned good father, and Tony wanted to be as good a son as he could manage. Although, not having much personal experience to draw on, he often felt clueless how to do that.

Speaking with trepidation, fearful only that he might accidentally cause pain, he asked, "Is some closure what finally helped you? You know, with…"

Slowly sucking in a deep breath, Gibbs felt the usual clench inside, but exhaled before nodding. "Yeah. Naturally can't do anything the easy way. Gotta almost die a couple of times, talk to 'em there. But it's been better afterwards."

Uncomfortable with the memory of Gibbs near death, cold wet lips and staring blue eyes, Tony rambled out the first thing that came to mind. "Good idea not to die too. You know. Otherwise the closure stuff is kinda pointless."

Glaring sideways and trying not to laugh at his very own smart-aleck, Gibbs said, "Don't make me put down my bottle to whack you. Besides, you didn't answer the question."

Smiling, Tony said, "Yeah. Well, anyway…"

"Wendy and I were great in Baltimore all the way until I asked her to marry me, and _she said yes_. That was apparently the death knell of our relationship. I think it all started with the size of the rock… I guess the… average size of the diamond got her thinking. Unfortunately, the very next day, I end up going undercover. It's kind of an intense one, I'm not even able to contact her for three days. I'd asked Danny to call her and at least tell her something, but either he didn't call or he left a message on the wrong answering machine, I don't know. Do know she was worried and pissed and it didn't help I came back a little injured and pretty far on the skittish side, you know?"

Gibbs nodded, "Yeah, I know." _Consequence of heavy undercover work sometimes, especially in DiNozzo's case. He flies further without a net than most, risk is higher, anxiety wave crashes heavier afterwards_.

"Plus with the burns and an arm in a sling… it was really no big deal, but _was_ really bad timing in this case. She was more than a little freaked out. I explained up one side and down the other; said she'd never be kept out of the loop again, promised my partner would call, hell, my lieutenant would call. I tried my damndest to get everything back to ok again, and she seemed ok after my intensive re-wooing campaign. She was proud of what I'd accomplished with the undercover; gang had been using homeless kids as drug mules, then just killing them afterwards."

"But she kept _thinking_ about us for crying out loud. Anybody really _thinks_ about a relationship with me it seems to go sour fast… anyway she started thinking about our future. And she started talking to her Mom and sister about it."

Looking over to Gibbs for support, Tony saw the flinch and small nod that meant he could see where this might be going already.

"So in the next month, I'm crazy busy at work, in and out of two more undercovers. Plus a detective of another department got killed, funeral for that. And I'm on a case with this Navy cop," he paused to smirk at Gibbs, "find out my partner's dirty, decide to apply to Navy cop's agency, start looking to relocate permanently when that's looking good."

"And she's a little out of touch, planning the wedding stuff. Just a little one, nothing big. But still... thinking about the future, buying a townhouse in D.C., our income level, etc. I didn't know any of this was an actual problem until the last freaking day. Guess I had blinders on, maybe I was already taking her for granted or something…"

He shook his head, eyes glassy as he looked at the past. "She'd made reservations someplace nice for dinner the night before the wedding. Said she had some plans to go over with me. I'm thinking it's last minute wedding plans, or the honeymoon. You remember I was nervous about actually getting the long weekend off considering I was the new guy at NCIS. Anyway, it wasn't any of that. It was the new plans for my life she'd decided on, so that we could have a good life together."

Lost in memory, Tony didn't see Gibbs' frown at that. Or his head shake, as this brought back memories of some of his own relationships' endings.

"The Milton Inn; really great restaurant, little beyond our usual price range. Too bad I ended up taking my food home. Kinda lost my appetite. But the cost of the place was one of her many points. She'd put _a lot_ of thought into everything Boss. It was like a freaking doctoral thesis or something.

Point #1 She came from money kinda like I did, but her lifestyle had changed right before I met her when her Dad ran off with the mistress and most of the family's money. She and her Mom had to work for a living… didn't much care for it. And she'd finally realized, probably in consultation with the Mom and sister, that she wanted to have the high life again when she got married. The size of the rock on her ring was the first clue that wasn't going to happen. Even with the pay bump as a fed, we weren't going to be wealthy. Personally I thought we were doing fine, but that wasn't good enough for her now.

Point #2 She didn't want to move to D.C. plain and simple. Living halfway between Baltimore and D.C. wasn't good enough for my job, and she said she honestly resented that just because I got a new job, she was expected to give up hers and move. She'd been complaining about her job for a while, guess I'd made the mistake in assuming she'd be just fine leaving it behind.

Point #3 My work was too dangerous and I wasn't home dependably. Really common cause of LEO break-ups, right? Valid point when planning a family, I had to give her. But up till then she was proud of me being a detective, doing good work. But that had changed now she said, which led her to her last point… which… well.

Point #4 She said I needed to quit my job… 'swallow my _pride_' and call my Dad for a '_real_ job'. I think she said words after that, but everything got really fuzzy about then."

Shaking his head with wide eyes, he sighed softly before continuing, "She knew my situation with my Dad, he'd been invited but he wasn't even coming to the wedding. I pointed out that if I'd actually screwed up my career so badly that I couldn't find a job anywhere on my own, and I had a family to support, of course I would call to see if he could get me a job. I'd call anybody I had to, pride no issue. But I was doing well in my career, just got another good job, thank you very much.

Kept hoping this was some kind of a joke, a test, anything. She used to put me through weird little 'prove you love me' tests when I was a teenager too. But she was dead serious, this stuff was non-negotiable. She actually said that... 'for our future's sake' she said."

He sighed, running both hands through his hair and taking a swallow of his soda before continuing, "I was staring at the fire in this terribly quaint fireplace, seeing a very unpleasant metaphor for our relationship going up in flames. Had no idea if she really expected me to go along with all her plans, or if this was her just breaking up with me… very elaborately. Felt like the latter."

"I told her it apparently wasn't me she wanted a future with. And then we had the most uncomfortable silent ten minutes of my life while I paid the bill and got the food boxed up."

"And it then it just keeps getting worse; I realize I'm taking the food to go because I'm too _cheap_ to just walk away from a hundred dollar meal. Apparently one of the things she now doesn't like about me. And I'm realizing maybe she's right that my pride really is more important to me than her… cause there's no way in hell I'm calling my Dad for a freaking job. Then I realized we both had a hell of a lot of calls to make to cancel the wedding in eighteen hours… not to mention getting my stuff our of her apartment and vice versa… all because of her… last minute _epiphany_. Dammit, that still…" he stood up suddenly and walked over to grip the railing.

Gibbs let the gusty raw winds whipping through the neighborhood smooth Tony's rough agitation for a while. Memories of ugly scenes with his ex-wives, some of them in this very house, ran through his head. And what little opinion he had left of Wendy after Tony's earlier revelation was now shattered completely.

As Tony turned to sit back down, hands scrubbing his face, he said, "Guess I'm not quite as over that as I thought."

Gibbs made a supportive grunt, "Hmm. You don't really get over something like that. You get through it, you keep going. But you don't really get over it. Trust me."

"Yeah, I do. You know a little something about breakups. And back then you weren't all that far over your last divorce, and even more of a bastard than you are now…" Gibbs was at least glad to see a smirk back on Tony's face, "and I was all about proving myself to you, wasn't about to whine about what happened. And it was just… too painful, you know?"

The older man said softly, "Yeah. I know." _I'm a damn expert on things too painful to talk about._

"And, despite her freaking itemized list of reasons why we were breaking up, I was still confused. How had things gone that bad that fast? All I could figure out was that everything was ok until I asked her to marry me and she said yes. So I resolved never to do _that_ again with anyone else. I didn't really like the singles lifestyle back then, but I kept practicing till I got good at it!" His bitter tone and tight-lipped smile disappeared after just a moment.

"Got the chance to ask her why last month. Finally. She said she wasn't ready for 'the One' back then. But she was now. She was awfully cute about it. But then I'm standing there alone in the florist's shop, flashing back to flames in a fancy restaurant's hearth. Thinking that 'the One' stuff was a crock of shit. She'd married her ideal 'One'; a nice, 9-5 moneybags businessman just like she had wanted me to be. And that didn't work out, so she's fishing around for 'the Next One'. Which, stupid chemistry aside, sure as hell wasn't going to be me."

They sat in silence for long minutes. The wind had died down and they could hear the first drops of rain splatting on the neighbors' roofs, approaching house by house. The men gathered the remains of their meal and headed inside.

"Hey Boss..." Tony bent down inside the refrigerator, and showed Gibbs the rest of the coffee beer six pack hidden in a crisper drawer. "Thought you might like it. You going to get your second coat on tonight?"

"Gonna check on it, got to close the windows down there anyway. Pretty sure it's too humid, have to wait till tomorrow. You heading out?" Gibbs had noticed Tony's choice of a soda instead of another beer.

"Yeah. Meeting a few guys down at a rec center in Brightwood Park for a pick-up game of basketball. Couple of Metro cops, one Park Ranger and a Sheriff's Deputy. Call ourselves the Lucky LEOs," Tony smiled.

"You know what that area's next to, don't you?"

"The often body-dumped Rock Creek Park. _Yes_ _Dad_, I won't go anywhere scary with strangers."

The headslap had Tony smiling and Gibbs smirking.

Gibbs decided to admit something to his virtual son. "Tony… you were right. Closure's good, getting... able to talk about something like that's good. But she would have been the wrong direction for you to take now. I shouldn't have pushed you at her."

Tony shook his head. "I know Gibbs. If you'd known everything you wouldn't have."

Grabbing his lightweight coat on the way out, Tony called, "Good night. Don't stay up too late for once."

Gibbs called back, "Ditto. And don't break anything we need."

"Gotcha Boss."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Gibbs stepped down from a visit to the Director's office Monday morning, calmly barking "Gear up!" as he rounded the corner to grab his weapon, badge and coffee. The first two were important; the third was vital.

His team quickly gathered their gear and followed him to the elevator. Ziva was showing McGee a new app she was proud of on her phone. Tim thought he wasn't looking even the tiniest bit patronizing while he complimented her on it.

Tony was far more focused, "Weekend homicide Boss? Shore leave run amok? Trouble while filming _Petty Officers Gone Wild_?"

"Don't get your hopes up DiNozzo. Confirmed drug ring and suspected drugs still onboard the USS Harry Truman in port down at Norfolk. We're searching before we have to request a dog from the DEA."

"So that means the Director knows we're better than dogs, right Boss?"

Team inside, the elevator doors closed as Gibbs answered, "Well that remains to be seen, doesn't it DiNozzo?"

* * *

Five hours later, the agents took a break for lunch in one of the mess halls aboard the aircraft carrier. The resident Agent Afloat, Special Agent Hernandez, had already established the drug ring was composed of three Petty Officers, one Seaman, and one Warrant Officer. Tim and Tony's search had so far been limited to every bunk, workstation and areas most frequented by these individuals. Gibbs and Ziva had been in the brig, interrogating the five in custody. They had squeezed some information from the group, but all were steadfast in refusing to say where the main cache of drugs was stored on the ship. The men apparently knew their prison terms would be extended exponentially with the quantity of drugs found.

Tim said wearily, "I hope we find something soon. I do not want to have to start going room to room in the entire ship. Each time we come out to a carrier I still can't believe how enormous they are. Can't believe my feet are actually tired already."

Not wanting to admit his feet were tired too, or his left knee was still aching from basketball the other night, Tony said, "Missing your office chair already McWhiner? I can't believe they're really serving beans and franks. I mean, come on, 'beanie weenies' people? Most of this ship is a closed air environment… that's just crazy."

"You had the option of turkey on mixed greens salad Tony," answered a grumpy McGee.

"Did I Tim? Did I _really_? Do you not know me at all Probie?"

After swallowing the last of his meal, Gibbs said, "Not fully staffed or stocked for deployment yet. Nothing wrong with the beans. Or the coffee." He stood to get a refill as the rest of the team glanced furtively at each other, wide-eyed.

Ziva said almost silently, "This coffee is execrable."

Looking on in wonder, Tony said, "You get execrable right, but still not 'finding a needle in a haystack'?"

After a frustrating morning, Ziva snapped back, "I am not often confronted with haystacks Tony!

"True, but you are confronted with finding things pretty often Ziva."

"Did some legendary, mythic individual once actually _place_ a needle in a stack of _hay_ Tony?"

Any possible reply Tony could have made to that was cut short by the intimidating presence standing above them at the end of the bench table. Steam wafting up from his cup, Gibbs said firmly, "Strongly suggest you all find this needle, in this haystack, before you make me call a dog to replace you."

"On it Boss! Woof!" Tony said, as they all scrambled up and cleared the table.

As they were leaving the mess hall, Tony's general comment, "You suppose they have service dogs that do paperwork yet?" was drowned out by the squawking PA overhead. "NCIS SFA DiNozzo report to aft receiving deck. NCIS SFA DiNozzo report to aft receiving deck."

The whole team looking at him, Tony shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever it is, I'll make it quick Boss."

"You better, or we'll save Stanfield's secondary duty station for you to search alone."

Wincing, Tony said, "He's the Seaman in Construction supply right?"

Gibbs smirked, "Yep."

* * *

DiNozzo saw the afternoon sun finally as he emerged on the dockside aft receiving deck. The Chief Petty Officer on duty pointed him down at the dock, where a Sheriff's car was parked. The long walk down the gangway didn't make his knee feel any better, but halfway to the dock he was pleasantly surprised when Sheriff's Deputy Ted Walkins got out of the car. Tony had last seen his friend Walkins two days ago, when the stork-thin Deputy had helped him off a basketball court after an awkward knee-spraining turn and tumble.

As Tony walked over, Walkins came closer to meet him, "Ted! What's going on man? Why the visit?"

The Deputy shook his head, eyes the same shade of green as his friend's, but skin several shades darker. "You don't have that knee wrapped anymore do you? You know better man, we're supposed to act like the responsible old farts we're turning into, remember?"

Tony's big smile and handshake with a half hug answered him, "Speak for yourself jackass. Besides, it was feeling better this morning... mostly. Real hard to do my job on a ship with limited mobility anyway. What's going on man?"

Walkins handed him an envelope, "You have been served Bud. I saw your name on the daily summons list and I couldn't let somebody else serve you for crying out loud. Besides," he grinned while looking up at the ship, "you not being at your H.Q. gave me an excuse for a road trip. Don't suppose there's any chance I could take a tour of the Truman?"

Bewildered at the envelope in his hands, Tony was already shaking his head, "No way man, they're gearing up for another deployment after passing their nuclear power tests… pretty serious about unauthorized personnel wandering around. What the heck am I being served for?" Cracking open the seal, he said wide-eyed, "Ordered to testify in child custody case of Wendy Miller v Cord Miller. What the hell? I thought I just had to speak to the Guardian ad Litem about that."

"Yeah, looked into that for you a bit before I left."

Tony considered his friend, realizing the trouble he'd gone through for him. "Tell you what," he pointed a thumb towards the ship behind him, "I can give you a compromise. Help my lame ass back up to the receiving deck and stay long enough to tell me what you know, ok?"

"It's a deal. Swing an arm over… Dude, that's a long way up. This thing's freakin' huge. You actually work on these while they're deployed sometimes?"

"Yeah. Trust me, it's a lot better to visit than stay."

Minutes later they reached the deck and stepped to an out of the way spot after getting a temporary clearance from the CFO. Tony waited for his friend to have his fill of looking around and gasping before finally asking, "So, any idea why me for the Millers?"

"Apparently you're to testify as to the validity of some claims made by the ex-husband against the ex-wife, pertains to the child custody case for their son. Could potentially lead to some criminal charges against her outside the custody case. I couldn't make out if you were supposed to be an eyewitness or impeachment, but pretty sure it's one of the two - not just a character witness. And it's some kind of multiple state allegation, differing levels of codes being broken per state. Some personal connection, not related to casework as far as I could tell. That ringing any bells?"

Tony's curiosity and confusion began to grow into concern with the tiny bits of new information, and he replied a little vaguely, "Well, I did know her, we were pretty close once. But that was years ago. Before they even met or had a kid. Saw her over a case about a month ago, didn't see anything odd between her and the kid at the time."

Thinking for another moment, he turned the Deputy and said, "Hey Ted, you mind walking yourself back down? I think I should call Wendy and see what the hell's going on. And between the crappy reception inside the hull, and my boss cracking the whip, this might be the best chance I get."

Smirking at his friend, Walkins replied, "I think I can manage without falling into the water Tony, we Deputies have special training for this. Sorry I don't have more for you man. Not sorry I came all the way down here to serve you - wait till I tell Becca I was on the Truman! See ya!"

"You don't watch where you're going and I'll be telling her why you came home wet! Thanks for the info. And thanks for serving me Deputy Walkins - betcha don't hear that too often!"

* * *

A handful of black-headed Laughing Gulls squabbled, fighting over a fish. They, and the opportunistic crow following them, flew unnoticed by Tony's head as he leaned on the railing. Oblivious, he dialed Wendy's number, trying with difficulty to think of a kinder way to say _what the hell's going on_… she was probably going through a lot right now, no need for him to add to it.

Brief pleasantries aside, he jumped right to it, "Look… Wendy, I've been summoned to testify in court for your custody case next month, and have an appointment to speak with the Guardian ad Litem tomorrow. Do you know why I'm involved?"

"Oh Tony, it's turning into an ugly custody battle. My ex wants full custody, claiming I'm an unfit parent due to mental instability and…" she paused awkwardly.

"He… Tony…" She sighed. "He wants a slam-dunk case by _claiming_ I sexually abused minors during my teaching years."

"Wendy?" Tony looked around, understanding dawning. "You didn't tell him?"

"I did Tony, I'm so sorry - on multiple levels now. But you get married, you share intimacies… I didn't think he would use it against me like this."

"Jesus, Wendy."

Silence, then a dawning shock had Tony blurting out, "Wait, minors _plural_?"

Wendy replied matter-of-factly, "Yeah, there were some after you."

"Holy shit Wendy!"

"None younger than 17, just like you Tony! They were only six or so years younger than me, you know that's not a big deal!"

_A big deal? Holy shit. I never even considered that she might have had other underage boyfriends after me. Or maybe even before me? Shit. _"Wendy… how many? No… just don't even tell me…" he blinked in shock for a moment, eyes blind to his surroundings.

Slowly, feeling like a man staggering forward on stilts, he latched on to practicalities. "Just... don't tell me anything else. I can't do much to help you except not tell them things I don't know."

"You can totally help me Tony! Just don't tell them in court or the affidavit ok? We were close friends, mentor type relationship, that's all, ok? I'm hoping to get the other guys not to also. Was planning on contacting them soon, but if the summons are going out today guess it'll need to be…"

His voiced raised in outrage, Tony cut her off, "Wendy, are you kidding me? I'm a law enforcement officer for god's sake - I don't lie in court! I don't lie on affidavits! And you did not just ask me to, understand?"

Free hand running through his hair, he tried to be calm and think about the fallout. "Look, this is going to be very bad for your case ok? Any verifiable claim of child molestation or sexual assault is… some of the states you taught in 17 _was_ too young Wendy."

"How is anybody supposed to keep track of that stuff? Be real Tony."

"Hey, you need to face facts Wendy. If you can get him to drop the case by agreeing to hand over custody voluntarily, do it. It's not like you're still a teacher, or work with kids…. you might at least still get visitation rights."

As Wendy began to speak, he remembered suddenly that she always had a hell of a temper, and he'd apparently thrown a rock at the hornet's nest. "Don't presume to tell me to just give up my son Tony. _Visitation_ rights? He's _my_ son and I love him! You don't know what the hell you're talking about and you can keep your advice!"

Feeling terrible but also helpless in this situation, Tony tried to reason with her, "Listen, you're right, I don't know what I'm talking about in having a kid or being a parent. But I do know more about the legal system, and _this will end badly for you_. Quite possibly ending with you having no access to your son at all. So you do what you have to Wendy, to still keep what access you can."

Although she was calmer, Tony could tell he hadn't really gotten through to her. "I get advice from my lawyer Tony, she knows the legal system better than you. I don't need your advice."

"It's good advice! Which your lawyer would be giving you if you weren't snowing her - you are, aren't you? You have to tell your lawyer the truth Wendy, everything. It's going to come out anyway. Maybe there's some kind of therapy program that would show good faith, she can certainly advise you better than me on that stuff."

After what he hoped was a thoughtful silence, he was disappointed when she said, "So you won't help me out Tony? Even for old times' sake?"

Sighing, he closed his eyes as he replied, "I'm giving you what help I can right now Wendy. Please get the case pulled… I don't want to do this to you."

The connection ended as a thunderstorm cloud slowly covered the sun, sending the deck into shadow.

* * *

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks so much for all the kind reviews and PMs etc. I really appreciate it! And here's to hoping that Tuesday night's season opener satisfies all our hopes, dreams and expectations. Or that we can fix it with fanfic!_

* * *

Chapter 4

The silent presence next to him on the rail seemed to apparate rather than appear. It also seemed natural and inevitable... and welcome. _Wonder how fast I'd get a headslap if I ever compared him to a grounding wire._

"Trouble?"

Slowly sucking in a deep breath of the warm humid afternoon air, Tony exhaled before shaking his head briefly. "Yeah, but not for me really. Although," standing up straight, he pointed at the storm clouds rolling in, "that might be trouble for our drive home. You know how traffic gets when you add water to rush hour and stir."

Gibbs could practically hear his SFA begging him not to get into this right now. He sipped his ever-present coffee before asking pointedly, "Think you might feel like doing your job sometime soon?"

"Of course Boss, right away Boss!"

On their way back down inside the ship, Gibbs filled Tony in on their current search area.

"So the interviews didn't bring anything up to follow Boss? Were any of them sleeping with somebody?"

"You _think_ we did not ask that Tony?" Ziva said, popping out of the large supply room as the men appeared.

"And what was the answer Zeevah?"

"Two had relationships with other crewmembers. Both have been cleared; their bunks searched."

"Where did they work?"

McGee had stepped into the hallway and stretched his back as he said, "One was in navigation and the other in food services. Nice of you to show up Tony."

"Food… six food storage areas…" Tony pondered for a moment as the team looked at each other.

He frowned as he asked slowly, "Is she tasked to the forward storage area?"

As both Ziva and McGee flipped through their PDAs and notebooks in vain, Tony asked with exasperation, "Does she bake?"

Gibbs was looking at his SFA expectantly. "Had a bit of white powder on her uniform, upper left sleeve. Maybe flour."

Tony started walking down the hall to an ascending deck ladder, asking over his shoulder, "Was she the Construction Seaman's girl?"

Ziva answered, "Yes," as she started up the ladder. Glancing back at McGee behind her, she saw his tiny grin as they both heard Tony's "Aha!" from above.

* * *

As he pulled over a small stepladder to the back corner of the food storage room, Tony indicated a cabinet at head height labeled 'BULBS'. Stepping up and pulling on gloves, he said, "Although the forward food storage area is usually for dry goods, baking supplies, rice, etc., fluorescent bulbs are also stored in here. There's a deep cabinet that's perfect for it. The opening was apparently supposed to be on the other side in one of the construction supply rooms. For reasons unknown, the opening is in here instead. Construction Seamen often get sent in here to get replacement fluorescent bulbs."

He opened the door… revealing a full cabinet of four large cardboard boxes, appropriately indicating _Philips 60 Watt Case of 15 8' linear fluorescent bulbs_. He turned to McGee, who still had a camera around his neck, and indicated to snap a picture. Frowning, McGee nonetheless did so as Ziva sighed in frustration, "They are _bulbs_ Tony."

"No, no my Ninja," he said, wiggling the four empty cardboard box-ends out, oddly held together after about six inches with tape, "they are _druuugs_." Behind the fake bulb box screen there were two duffle bags stuffed full. He stepped down so McGee could replace him on the ladder for better pictures.

"When I was on the Seahawk, some of the cooks had quite the regular poker game going on back here. Used that storage cabinet for liquor. You wouldn't think the same design oddity would be on this older carrier, but there you go."

McGee handed the heavy duffle bags down to the SFA, who opened the top of both revealing bags of marijuana, pills that appeared to be amphetamines, and oxycontin in both pill and liquid form. As McGee continued to snap away for evidence, Ziva crossed her arms with a grudgingly pleased smirk.

Tony's eyebrows were high as he turned to look expectantly at Gibbs. "So Boss? Better…?"

Jaw muscle twitching, Gibbs cocked his head to the side. "I supposed this means you're better than a dog DiNozzo."

"Yes!"

* * *

Mid-morning Tuesday, Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo stepped out of the Guardian ad Litem's office, feeling pale and tingly. _How can I not be bleeding somewhere and still feel like this? Maybe that bench is a good idea for a minute. Such a lovely… parking lot… that minivan is especially attractive. Chrome really is making a comeback. Just for a moment, till I get my feet back under me._

The attorney representing children's interests in custody cases had been unusually, and rather unprofessionally, forthcoming with information on the case because the man giving the affidavit was not only a charming federal agent, but also a former victim of the accused parent in question. She had shared that there were three other men giving their testimony as to their relationships with Ms. Wendy Miller (nee Korba). One had already had his appointment with her and the other two were scheduled later in the week with Guardians in the states the men now resided in.

Considering the laws of Rhode Island back when Tony started his relationship with Miss Wendy Korba, only the first two months of their relationship were 'third degree sexual assault'. When he'd turned 17 it was technically legal. Of the two young men in the years that followed, one relationship was illegal and the other legal. The fourth and most recent 'alleged incident' was in 1998 - and that meant the young man was 16 years younger than Wendy's 33 year old self at the time. At least that one was in Maryland, where the young man was actually the age of consent, so it was technically not illegal. Just very… very…

Tony was at a loss… a complete loss how to process this. She'd lied just yesterday to him on the phone. He had thought the worst part was finding out that there were other minors, plural. But now, with such an age difference… it was as if their first relationship was just a first symptom of an illness. _God, no 'as if' about it moron. And what the hell was our second relationship then? Was she 'cured' by then, moved onto appropriate peers? Or just halfway there, since she at least had the memory of me as a gangly teen?_

Shuddering, he stood abruptly, adjusting his sunglasses against the morning glare. _Coffee. I need coffee. I'll go get coffee for the team on the way in. When you don't know what else to do, go get coffee. Is that a rule? That should be a rule._

* * *

Two days passed with classic vapidity on Tony's part, and semi-patient, long suffering tolerance on his teammates'. Gibbs had expected an update after the Tuesday appointment, but wasn't going to push when one wasn't offered. Other than enough bursts of silliness to appear normal, Tony was actually a bit quieter and more productive than usual considering they were on cold cases after wrapping up the carrier drug case. It was slightly worrisome to Gibbs, but not enough to call the younger man out for. _Hell, if I didn't know what's causing it, I'd be thankful. Won't take too much longer for Ziva and McGee to figure out something's going on._

At the same moment, his SFA was sitting distractedly in the far corner of the breakroom. Lost in thought, he repeatedly popped the side of his can of soda in time with a nameless tune only he could hear. He neither noticed the aluminum clicks nor his coworkers flitting in and out of the breakroom. He'd been spending most of his off time in the building lately, either exhausting himself by working out in the gym or catching up on the fascinating 'Supplies Use Trends' (SUT) yearly report he was almost a month late on.

Sleep had been… troubling ever since his conversation with Wendy, and after the information from the attorney… The nightmares seemed unavoidable no matter how much he tried to tire himself out first. A recurring dream that started as a glorious warm turquoise water swim across a tropical cove inevitably changed halfway across. Sometimes it was suddenly swimming over a sharp reef full of pointed daggers, barely slicing him, but attracting the ravenous sharks nearby. Other nightmares, the water itself began to stink and the taste was foul before he finally saw through the water to the rotting corpses below, the pile growing so large they were almost touching his belly as he swam on, horrified.

McGee had come in to refresh his coffee, of the rare opinion the breakroom coffee was drinkable with a little salt added. He noticed Tony's distraction and it set off tiny warning bells. Crossing to the other man's table, he sat down quietly facing the rest of the room, covering his partner's six as best he could against interruptions or harassment. Nothing in the wrap up of the drug ring case had seemed to bother the older man, so this must be something personal… or another secret assignment, he wondered? _Just tell me he hasn't been assigned to go "handle" aka "kill" another innocent man. That would screw anybody's head up, concussion or no concussion._

DiNozzo finally sighed, raising himself out of his stupor, and finally noticing Tim's acting as sentinel for him. Although irritated at himself for forgetting his surroundings so thoroughly, he smiled softly at his Probie watching out for him like this. The tiniest of head nods were exchanged between them, before McGee tried the direct approach.

"Something going on? You ok Tony?"

"I'm always ok Probie. Sometimes just a little…"

"Less ok?"

"Hmm."

McGee interpreted the noncommittal grunt as a positive response, grateful DiNozzo at least made noises to interpret. Almost nine years along and he still felt like you had to be able to read Gibbs' aura sometimes to understand what the man wasn't saying aloud.

"Let me get your impression of a situation McObjective. Sixteen year old student in high school hooks up with hot youngish teacher, is convinced it's love, it goes on till teenager graduates."

"Her parents never found out?

"Hah. No. As if. No one ever found out."

"Huh. That's odd, beyond being illegal a lot of places. Usually somebody finds out, the girl gives it away or gets pregnant or something, and the teacher gets fired and brought up on charges."

"Yeah. This teen was already pretty good at hiding things; deceit, deception, discretion. The three D's." He took a thoughtful breath before continuing, "Now, in the next ten years or so, the teacher had similar relationships with three other teens, usually seventeen. Just barely underage, but still… The last known kid there was a 16 year age gap between them."

"Eww."

"Yeah. Doesn't start so eww, but it ends up there, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Now… I'm going to remind you of Rule #8, and flip your assumption - the teens are the boys, and the teacher the female."

"Oh, yeah, I assumed. Well, still…"

"Still eww, right?"

"The boys might not agree, but definitely, yes. Is there a case…?"

"Not one of ours. Now, you suppose… you think there could have been something about the first teen that… made her that way? Bent her somehow? I mean, can it really just be random chance that they hooked up in the first place? Maybe there was something messed up about both of them that did one of those... convergent harmonic frequency things," his interlaced fingers attempted to demonstrate his meaning, "that ended up twisting both of them?"

Dumbfounded, Tim floundered for a reply. This was not remotely what he had been expecting. He'd really thought the problem was less likely a new secret assignment and more in the area of repeats of Airwolf being cancelled, or Tony's new leather boots getting stained.

"Convergent…?"

"Hey, it might not make any sense to me half the time, but I hear your geeky ramblings, ok?"

"I… I don't think you can… I don't think anybody would put any blame on the kid. I mean, a… even if a murderer kills someone he knows, it's not the victim's fault, right?"

"Sure, and it's not a question of blame exactly. But when the murderer kills again, is it possible there was something about the first kill that inclined him to the next ones?"

Shaking his head with a frown, Tim couldn't seem to find any words.

Standing after a deep breath, Tony said, "Well, not surprisingly, this talk of killing reminds me of what Gibbs will do to me if we stay in here much longer. Let's head back. Thanks Tim."

Not really sure if he'd helped any, Tim replied, "Sure. Maybe you should talk about this with Ducky," before walking beside him down the hall.

"Hmm."

McGee interpreted this noncommittal grunt as a negative response.

* * *

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: So glad many of you fine authors are fixing the Season 10 opener for all of us, sometimes the series authors need more help than others… or a two hour episode to do it right.  
__Reminder, this story is set back in pre-Dearing Season 9. And thank you all for not only reading and kindly reviewing/PMing, but being patient with my slower than usual updates!_

* * *

Chapter 5

Friday morning the team looked forward to nothing but cold cases and paperwork unless a new case came in. Gibbs finished his newspaper, while McGee was on the phone with a friend in Cybercrimes, talking him through a decryption problem. Ziva had given up rubbing Tony's "ears" in the fact she had preview passes for a new movie opening the following weekend. Tony had already pointed out the trailers for this Elizabethan-period drama were noticeably sans heaving-bosom corsets, which was his requirement for watching period dramas… period.

Tony had by then downed most of his 'venti' double shot of espresso hazelnut coffee on top of the energy drink he'd inhaled at home to try and counter the poor sleep he'd had yet again the previous night. _Recurring nightmares start to... recur less eventually, right? Well, at least I got the SUT report done finally. Somebody in Accounting is surely giddy with happiness right now. Wonder if some lucky soul has to track what moves best in the vending machines too. Vending Use Trends report?_

Answering his phone, he tried not to yawn audibly at the security officer explaining he had a visitor in the lobby… one Cord Miller. Eyebrows furrowed, he told the officer he'd be right down. _Just as soon not be the morning show for the entire MCRT floor._

A smaller, slight man with messy greying brown hair and a burgeoning beer belly restrained by a grey dress shirt and dark slacks introduced himself. Holding out a hand, with the other he gave Tony a business card.

As they shook, Tony couldn't help but be underwhelmed at 'the One' standing before him. _Wow, I was thinking 'cord' of wood, he's more like 'cord' of grey electrical plug. What was she thinking?_

"Look, I won't take but a minute of your time. I'm trying to visit or contact all the… um, the guys like you that have given testimony against Wendy."

_Oh, how nice. He didn't want to say 'molestation victims'. That was classy of him. Definite 'the One' material here. Good god, why do I even care about that anymore!_

"For what reason Mr. Miller?"

The other man sounded harried but sincere, "Well, I know you don't have to believe me, but she's gotten really… erratic as things are looking worse and worse for her. On the phone yesterday, she was alternating between rambling and yelling at me, and seemed to be blaming everyone but herself for Fred being 'torn away' from her. Me mostly, obviously, but she mentioned you guys specifically and… I just thought I should warn you."

"I appreciate that. You're son's ok?"

"Yeah, he's with me after school today and this weekend anyway. Hopefully she calms down some by next week."

"How did you mean erratic?"

"She's always been up and down, pretty sure she's at least a little manic depressive or bipolar or whatever that is. I wish she'd never gone into journalism; it really gets her either furious or depressed when she can't get leads on her story, or it gets cancelled or edited beyond recognition. It's gotten worse over the years. Half the time she's the perfect career Mom, keeping it all together, and then the other half… I don't know. It's gotten to where I'm afraid for Fred when he's at her house and the nanny's not there. Just because of the weird mood swings, not because I thought she'd do… something to him… you know, _that_ way.

_Eww. Ew! Gah... hadn't even thought of that. Thanks for sharing._

"It was mostly because of the unpredictability that I even brought up the child… abuse charges."

_You can say 'molestation' Cord old buddy, really. Heck I could say it... If I really wanted to._

"My lawyer said if it was verifiable it would make everything go faster. The Guardian ad Litem has told me that now all the affidavits are in, this is basically an open and shut case. I'm just worried this is like the straw on the camel's back for Wendy, you know?"

"Yeah." They stood in silence for a moment, staring at each other's shoes, before Tony said, "Well. I hope everything turns out ok. I appreciate the warning. Let me know if anything else happens, o.k.?" He held out his hand, and mirrored Mr. Miller by providing his own business card.

After shaking hands again, Tony trusted his impression of Cord's sincerity and watched approvingly as the smaller man walked out the lobby doors.

_Little fella seems like a good guy… and a good father._

* * *

After Cord's departure, Tony took some time to research the man, getting background information; noting the complete lack of criminal record, stable finances, impressions from coworkers, a couple of family friends, etc. Some of these same people had plenty to say about Wendy's behavior too, which seemed to confirm Cord's story of her erratic behavior and mood swings.

Gibbs' usual methods had revealed to him who Tony's morning visitor was, and after a couple of hours watching DiNozzo work hard on something other than cold cases, decided to call him out for an update. He'd been content to wait for Tony to come to him whenever the younger man was ready on this, but obviously it was showing up at work now. The walk to the coffee shop in the late morning bright sunshine was long enough to fill the senior agent in on the latest developments, and Gibbs noticed Tony seemed grateful it was basically a sit rep asked of him… no emotional response required.

Tony was definitely grateful, because a jelly donut sounded like the perfect response to deal with his conflicted feelings right now. _Was she always like this and I just didn't notice? Knew she had a temper, knew she could be a little… quirky. Was she like this before she broke up with me or after? I'm starting to think dating me is some kind of symptom for messed up women. Reminds me of what happened to Brenda Bitner after we dated… may not have been caused by me, but I'm a damn investigator… I should have seen something, done something. Should I do something now? Wendy's not my responsibility, but still…_

He took a bag of snacks back for the team. Doughnuts, bagels and muffins; he naturally knew all their usual orders. He certainly knew Ducky and Palmer would be grateful for a snack break; they were swamped with remains from another teams' case. Relieved to at least be doing something that made sense, he shook his buzzing head while walking back to NCIS with Gibbs.

Tony's personal investigation was curtailed by Friday afternoon however, when the team started getting information from the DEA related to the source of the drugs hidden on the USS Harry Truman. The DEA had better funding, but was stretched even thinner than NCIS. They proposed a joint undercover operation to get evidence against a charter airline that was believed to be transporting fairly large amounts of at least three different popular drugs. The DEA had circumstantial evidence and firm suspicions that not only was this the source of the carrier's stash, but they also were apparently supplying a naval base and a prison in Virginia, and perhaps other locations as well.

Dreading Abby's reaction, Tony subtly stepped behind her metal table before asking her if his airport worker ID last used while rubbing shoulders with Trent Kort and La Granouille was still useable. As expected, she imploded upon looking it up and realizing someone in Cybercrimes' division of Covert Ops had set up Tony's undercovers back then per Director Shepard's instructions.

Although she never got up from her seat, Tony was nonetheless glad he'd taken cover. Her irate voice got even louder as she pulled up more information, "_Nobody_ does backgrounds for my team but me Tony! _Look_ at this - there's creation date flags still showing in the tertiary code. Amateurs! What, are we changing grades on our report card here? _Gibbs!_"

The senior agent had his hands up even before her voice turned into a loud whine, "Not our fault Abbs. Can you make it work?"

"Of _course_ I can make it work! _Nobody_ makes it work as well as me, and _don't_ you forget it. I can _fix_ what they couldn't be bothered to get _right _and make it better than it ever was! Putting _my_ Tony in danger for pete's sake..." her muttering continued as she began pounding her keyboard.

Gibbs and Tony looked at each other consideringly. Tony suggested, "New-hired baggage handler/flight tech looking for extra cash under the table, worked flights for drug runners in the past?"

Nodding, Gibbs said, "Yeah. Make sure they don't know you speak Spanish. Abby, let us know when he's set, and coordinate with CovOps for his clothing and gear, ok?"

"So ok it's KO'ed, Bossman!" Abby replied confidently.

Back in the bullpen, the team worked the extended information to support the undercover and prepare for all possible outcomes. A distracted DiNozzo answered his phone while typing with the other hand, "_Very_ Special Agent Anthony… oh, hey man, long time no speak. Another? Man, I'm popular today. Who? Damn…" Tony froze for a second before adding, "Hey Ellis, would you escort her up please? Thanks."

He hung up while immediately switching his gaze to Gibbs, who returned it almost immediately. After Tony mouthed _Wendy_, Gibbs cocked his head inquiringly. Tony thought a second, nodded briefly in Ziva's direction, then two fingers pointed at his eyes, and a barely perceptible eyebrow twitch made the gestures a question. Gibbs barely nodded before speaking, "Ziva, observe and report on DiNozzo and his guest, assist as needed."

* * *

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thanks again to everyone reading/reviewing/PMing/favoriting/etceterating - it's sincerely appreciated!_

* * *

Chapter 6

A confused Ziva barely had time to stand and question her orders before a smiling Wendy was escorted to the bullpen. "Tony! We need to talk. I know you're not on a case at the moment, so how about it?"

Nodding to Ellis, Tony answered, "Sure, I think the large conference room is available. Right this way. How do you know we're not on a case anyway?"

"Reporter," she chirped.

"Right." He was glad her sources obviously weren't good enough to know they were about to start an undercover operation. He also couldn't help but notice how her dark brown off-the-shoulder dress really set off her dark eyes and hair. _Really wish she'd just called. Really, really wished._

"Hi Ziva! Tony, why is Agent David following us?"

"Oh, new tag-team initiative, all the agencies are trying it. Just pretend she's not there." Looking over his shoulder, and speaking as though there weren't butterflies multiplying in his stomach, he said, "It makes the ninjas happy when you pretend they're invisible." He winked back at Ziva with a grin.

David stuck her tongue out at him as they entered the conference room. She stationed herself by the door, and Tony and Wendy walked to the far side of the table next to the window. She gave them the appearance of privacy and they spoke quietly at first, but Ziva's hearing was always fairly good. Obeying the _observe_ part of her orders, she struggled to remain expressionless as the conversation continued.

Wendy's voice was low and persuasive, and obviously attempted to tug on Tony's heartstrings. "Look, I need you Tony. I really need you to do something for me. You always said I just had to ask and you'd be there for me. Well, I _need_ you to retract your affidavit, say you were pressured by Cord. And since you can be intimidating when you put your mind to it, I need you to visit the other local guy, I have his address, and have him agree to retract too. These two affidavits get thrown out, I'm pretty sure my lawyer can get enough suspicion cast on the other two so they'll be thrown out. I know you can do it Tony, I have faith in you. Do this for me, ok?

_Damn it, she's still singing the same tune. Doesn't even care there's a witness who isn't deaf standing right over there. And 'I know you can do it Tony, I have faith in you'… She used to say that when I was in school too. Meant the world to me back then. Like my memories of those days weren't FUBAR enough by now. _

Disappointed, he sighed. "Wendy… listen to yourself. Look who you're talking to. Am I a criminal? Mafioso? Mercenary? No. Federal Agent. And if I wasn't in NCIS, I'd still be a cop somewhere. Listen to who you're asking to lie. Seriously? Wendy, you can't change the past just by lying about it."

Shaking her head, she reached across the corner of the table to rest her hand on Tony's. "Nobody really _cares_ about the past Tony. Nobody would be persecuting me over this if it wasn't for Cord. He's just stirring all this up to get what he wants, so I'm forced to stir up what I can to fight back."

_Ok, she's partially right there. But also not. God I hate this. _

"Some people actually do care about the past, especially when there is criminal activity in it. I deal with that kind of a lot in my line of work. You do it in your line of work these days too; dig into someone's past for a story, looking to find the skeletons right?"

He took a breath, trying another approach, "Look, it's not my business to judge you Wendy, but I do want you to listen to me - you need to get professional help. Not only to show that you're addressing past incidences of inappropriate relationships with minors, but to help deal with what I'm guessing is stress causing your mood swings and erratic behavior for the past few years. You do that _successfully_ and your ex husband will probably share custody no problem again in the future. Cord said that's the real reason he…"

"My god, you're in contact with him? You're working with him now?" She stood up abruptly, chair shooting out from behind her.

Tony rose slower, placating hands raised, "No, no Wendy! Slow down, he just stopped by this morning. I'm not…"

"_Just stopped by_? Did he bribe you with fucking _donuts_ Tony? You're on his side! Oh my god, you snake! You bastard!" She slapped him as hard as she could once with both hands before he spun her around and pushed her into the wall. He secured her hands behind her and bent down to speak forcefully into her ear, "Calm down Wendy! It's nothing like..."

"I can't believe you!" She abruptly cut off his attempted calming words by head butting him backwards, directly into his left eye as luck would have it. Turning sideways, he held her wrists with one hand, while leaning his body weight against her, squeezing her into the wall more firmly.

His free hand wiping eyes watering from what he suspected would be a black eye, he saw Ziva was already next to him with hands raised to take charge of the irate woman. "It's ok Zi, really. You can stand down."

She stopped, but spoke with a raised voice over the continued complaints muffled against the wall, "You were perfectly in the right to slap her back you know. I have noticed you avoiding fighting with women before Tony. It is an easy weakness for a woman to take advantage of."

"I get hit by a woman bigger than me I might hit back Ziva. Never been the case though." Speaking over her rebuttal of "Chauvinism takes many forms…" and still avoiding pointy shoes kicking him, he added with exasperation, "Could we maybe continue this discussion _later_ Ziva?"

She shrugged, but walked only halfway down the table to continue her observations. She indicated his chin, which was when he realized he was oozing blood from fingernails scrapes along his left jaw. _Man, I am not coming out of this little get together very well._

He pulled his handkerchief out to stop the cut bleeding onto his suit jacket, he spoke to the wall above Wendy's head, "You _calm down_, Wendy, I'll think about letting you leave without bringing you up on charges of assaulting a federal officer. That would not help your case at all. You hear me?"

"You're hurting my wrists Tony!"

The pitch of his voice rose as he replied with irritation, "Well you gave me a bloody jaw and a black eye, so I think I'm a little entitled here Wendy."

He let her spin around, but stayed close enough she couldn't try anymore slapping. "Look, Wendy, this is some of the erratic stuff right here. You coming here asking me what you're asking. You jumping to the conclusion you just did."

_She seems to be listening finally. Or maybe just lining up for a knee in my crotch, hard to tell._ "I'm going to give you the same advice I did on Monday. Ask him to drop the case by agreeing to hand over custody voluntarily while you attend some kind of therapy. Then, he'll either agree to partial custody or you can sue him back for it when you get a clean report card on the erratic behavior and the child mol…," he found he couldn't say it after all.

She cut in, "It _wasn't_ child molestation for god's sake Tony! You were the first one, do you really think what we had was wrong?"

He knew this wasn't about him, couldn't let it be about him. He was too conflicted, too many memories… emotions. Some part of him still loved her, he knew that. He had to give her an answer that might snap her out of this, make her see reason. He couldn't help but imagine Wendy looking at him imploringly from an elevator, much like a sweeter dark haired woman did years ago.

He forced himself to say, "Yes. Yes Wendy. I think it was wrong now. But more importantly, it was also illegal. As were some of the three guys after me. There's a reason why you lied to me on the phone the other day. You said they were only six or so years younger than you. Remember? Your last teenager was 16 years younger than you Wendy. You lied because you knew it was wrong."

She was silent for a moment, not bothering to contradict him, still seemingly shocked by his 'yes'. But her eyes still searched his for something. Stepping closer still, as close as the lovers they once were, she licked her lips and breathed softly, "Tony?"

Nose twitching involuntarily, he fought the desire to take her in his arms and make it all better for her somehow. He swallowed as he stepped back quickly, "No. No more. Go Wendy. Please take my advice." He sank into a chair, looking helplessly at Ziva.

Catching Wendy's elbow, Ziva gladly escorted the numb woman out of the conference room. Walking her down the hall, Ziva stopped as Gibbs blocked their path. Holding an icepack and his coffee, it was apparent he'd been waiting on them.

"I'll take her Ziver." He threw the icepack to Ziva. "She and I need to have a chat. Give that to DiNozzo, then get back to work. Op will be starting with tonight's evening shift."

Throwing away his empty cup before riding the elevator down, Gibbs and Wendy walked in complete silence… all the way to her car. He stood in front of her door, looking at her with no apparent emotion. "What are you going to do?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked in the distance in the parking garage. "I'll call Tony tomorrow. I'll explain I'm just going through a lot right now. I'll apologize and he'll forgive me. He's very forgiving. it'll be fine."

She didn't notice Gibbs' eyes narrowing at her. "_Tony_ will be busy tomorrow, and you're not getting the point. You leave him alone and deal with your own shit yourself." He paused before continuing, "Everything has consequences. If this is yours for what you did to those young men, then you damn well pay the piper."

Her lipped pressed together, she appeared to have no response. Finally, with a trembling chin, she said, "None of that should affect my son. He's _my son_."

"Yeah, so he's going to have to deal with some of your baggage, that's life. He's your ex's also. You may not like him anymore, but you know he's a good man. You know he's a safe place for your son to be while you get yourself straightened out."

Gibbs opened her car door for her, and after she settled in he said, "Tony gave you good advice. You should take it. Next move's yours."

He watched her drive away. Gut disturbed, he wondered if anything he or Tony had said would get through to her.

* * *

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Tim had been shocked upon seeing Tony that afternoon in the bullpen; the bleeding had quickly stopped, but the black eye was darkening rapidly. Ziva had only given him the highlights from the conference room before the subject of their whispers came strolling nonchalantly into the bullpen, soda in hand, immediately followed by Gibbs from the elevator.

_I can't believe that… that woman did this to him! Chirpy little bit... Good grief, this must be what our strange conversation in the break room yesterday was about. So he was the… and she is the… oh wow. Wait, he can't be distracted during an undercover, this is nuts._

"Boss?" He pointed to Tony, "Do we need to cancel? If Tony isn't 100%?"

Smirking, Tony submitted to Gibbs grabbing his chin and inspecting his face while still speaking to Tim over his shoulder, "McWorrywort, you're just used to me at 110%. My mere 100% is still kick ass, trust me."

Gibbs dropped his hand, but looked into his second's eyes with an eyebrow twitch.

Tony smiled smugly and said, "I can make it work. Think it'll be pretty handy really, no time for shaggy hair or stubble. My former side-work employers were rough bastards." _Not tiny little petite angry women roughing me up in conference rooms._

Walking away, Gibbs said, "Keep the ice on it. Black is fine, swollen could affect your vision. Finish up what you're working on, then go bed down for four hours. Gonna be on night shift until 06:00."

* * *

That evening, after awkwardly putting on the airport's standard baggage handler jumpsuit, Tony had noticed it not only had appropriate stains, but also the right fuel, grease and cleansers smell. Slight, but present. _Thank you Abby! Some prep departments forget to get the smell right._

He had also visualized abandoning all his formerly swirling emotions as he put on the jumpsuit, zipping it all solidly into another life. Not Terry Donaldson's life; a man finally off probation for some trafficking misdemeanors. Finally allowed to work in airports again and out to make up fast for all the years of big money earning he lost.

Tony didn't mind the late night start, at all. After his… visitor earlier, he doubted a good night's sleep was a possibility anyway. Better for the undercover to get in place and get trained on the night shift anyway. Less hectic, easier to look more natural. Luckily, Columbia Executive Airport, the airport that Apollo Airlines Charter Service was based out of, had recently mandated a certain number of additional support staff depending on each charter company's business load. Terry Donaldson was the second of two new hires for Apollo, and his trainer Rob was a nice guy, formerly on probation years ago himself.

So far, being the new guy on the quiet, two employee night shift was also great for wandering innocently into certain empty offices and snooping while installing audio bugs and using the flash drive that Tim had set up for him. The Flash Drive of Doom (FDD) as Tony had designated it, had a two-key install worm tracker virus on it. Soon, thanks to McGenius, they would have eyes and/or ears on security cameras, and every IP address and login protocol of every piece of hardware used by Apollo. The DEA had held up their end and taken care of warrants for everything based on the evidence they already had, so Tim could hack with a clear conscience for once.

Grousing to himself while in a kitten-loving secretary's office, Tony remembered McGee ripping on him in the bullpen. '_Can you handle two buttons Tony?' Such a wise-ass Tim… we've done a good job on you. No wonder geeks get into this hacking stuff, it's sneaky fun! Snun? Feaky? Whatever, the FDD is kicking butt. We're hacking now baby! _

Rob was audibly busy downstairs in a heated and loudly echoing discussion with his girlfriend, so Tony moved to the next unoccupied room and took the time to thoroughly check the office of Vice President Samuel Gould while the flash drive did it's thing. He had briefly met Gould when the man showed up unexpectedly around 10pm to retrieve a box from the shipping area of the hangar floor. Tony's hair had stood on end while being questioned by the brown haired, brown eyed man. Not only was his gut warning him about this guy, but Gould's halitosis was appalling and his squinty, narrow-set eyes reminded Tony horribly of an overly intelligent rat as he demanded 'Terry's' job qualifications and stated management's expectations of it's employees.

Although almost distracted by memories of the rats in the movie Willard (_why? why did I ever watch that movie to the end considering I hate the little vermin so much now?_), Tony thought he passed the paranoid man's criteria. He even had an opportunity to plant the seed of his availability for less than legal work through Gould's curiosity about the state of 'Terry's' face.

"You get in a fight with your girlfriend or something? We got enough of that with Rob. You don't show up for work because of a domestic, you're fired. You got that?"

"I got that Sir, not a problem. I need the money way too much to miss work. No worries about a girlfriend. Got a series of disasters there I don't wanna repeat anytime soon. No, the face got a little bashed doing some extra work for these guys on the coast. Was good pay I didn't have to tell Uncle Sam about, but they started getting rough with me for no good reason so I cut out. Making cash is no good if you're not going to be alive to retire on it, ya know?"

The squinty man frowned and cocked his head to the side, pausing long enough to briefly make Tony wonder if his cover was blown somehow already. "You got any roots Donaldson?"

Eyebrows up, Tony answered immediately, "I got a dufflebag in a motel. Pretty attached to that. Otherwise, no. As long as money is going into my pocket or my offshore account I don't give a rat's ass where I work from. Only problem with that is I pretty much got to stay continental, I just speak English; one of the reasons I got knocked around on that side job. They didn't always speak English so good and they decided that was my fault. Anyway, yeah man - where ever you want me I can go."

"Hmm. We'll see how you work out. We'll see." Stepping closer, the bad breath truly disturbing this close, his beady eyes glared into Tony's, "Who was that under the table work for?"

"Ah man, I don't kiss and tell, you know. Not getting anybody in trouble, none of my business but the pay. Can tell you they were mostly Puerto Rican, based out of there I think." _One of the lesser but steady drug suppliers to the east coast is a Puerto Rican outfit. Not the biggest, but definitely competitors to these guys. Thought that might steer Ratman in the right direction._

Ratman's eye twitched, and he sniffed before hefting his package and heading back to his Mercedes.

_Guess the interview is over. Went pretty well I must say; just have to see if he nibbles at the hook. And now I learn to clean an entire helicopter… wouldn't mind at all if it was a Gulfstream._

Five minutes later, Rob paused in showing Terry the 'Apollo way' how to refuel and refit the helo for tourist, business, or other daily flights. Pulling out his cellphone, he grumbled, "If it's that lying bitch Shirley again… oh hell. Yes Mr. Gould? Sure, he's right here."

Tony spoke into the borrowed phone, "Mr. Gould?"

"You afraid of heights Donaldson? Got any experience?"

"No special problem with it Sir. In fact one summer I picked up a cash job putting out forest fires with that retardant stuff. Helo the company used was jury-rigged, somebody had to basically hang out of the freaking chopper and pull a cord to release the powder. That somebody ended up being me most of the time."

"I'll be checking you out Terry. You don't check out you won't be around long." Although he supposed Gould meant to sound threatening, the sudden dialtone just made Tony miss Gibbs.

Handing the phone back to Rob, he asked, "Why you suppose he wanted to know if I was afraid of heights?"

Shrugging, Rob said, "They got some extra jobs around here I never touch, probably what he's thinking of you for. I can't do most of them because of this fucking noose around my neck named Shirley, but also cause I go higher than a ladder to clean the top of a Cesna my knees start shaking. Which, by the way, is the next thing you get to clean tonight until we get the flight in at 03:15 from Dallas."

Back in Gould's office hours later, Tony's snooping paid off easily, when a locked file cabinet was revealed to contain what looked like personal use drugs. _Dabbling in the merchandise? Naughty Mr. Gould!_ Knowing Abby wouldn't need much to match the makeup of the drugs to what was on the carrier and what the DEA had, Tony quickly took small samples that wouldn't be missed and sealed them in a ziplock hastily concealed in his underwear. _Damn coveralls! Made me leave my belt knife behind too. A dinky pocketknife on my keychain is just not the same._

* * *

Having made a wordless hand-off with Gibbs in the local Waffle House Saturday morning, Tony finally laid down on his lumpy mattress at the Sunset AeroView Motel and Tiki Bar. _At least the sheets are clean… I think. Wonder if I'll ever see the Tiki Bar?_

Five nightmare-free, but restless hours of sleep followed before his undercover cellphone rang, waking him up instantly. Scrubbing his face briefly, he was glad it was in character to sound like he'd just woken up. "Hello?"

A woman answered, "Is this Terry Donaldson?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"I'm Kathy Oakley, Mr. Gould's associate? He let me know you might be available for odd jobs?"

"Sure, long as I'm getting paid well, I'm very available. Whatchu got in mind ma'am?"

"You ever fished from a helicopter Mr. Donaldson?"

He laughed, "Nah, but there's a first time for everything. And just call me Terry please."

"Well Terry, you can call me Ms. Oakley. And since you've checked out we're going to give you a try. This time just $200 in cash at the end of a couple hours work. If you do well, you keep on for us and you'll get an increase. I'll be by to pick you up in about thirty minutes. Alright?"

_Thanks for the quality background Abby!_ "Ok. Will I be back in time for my shift at Apollo tonight? Don't want to get cash in hand at the expense of cash in my pocket, you know?"

She laughed briefly, "You let me worry about that. You really are all about the money aren't you?"

He laughed agreeably back, "You got me ma'am. I'll be ready for you in thirty."

After quickly bathing, he snacked on protein bars and barely cold soda from the mini fridge while waiting for his new employer to arrive. When Ms. Oakley breezed in the door, she immediately helped herself looking into all his things and pulled out jeans and a t-shirt for him to wear, claiming he'd need more flexibility than his work coveralls offered. She also helped herself to the view while he changed, her smile more of a smirk. A pixie-haired bottle blond, she was a fairly attractive 50-odd year old woman who definitely had had some 'work' done and expected every man to appreciate it. Tony found it easy to appeal to her vanity, and soon the trip to the airport had a flirting atmosphere more of a date than a job.

An hour later Tony was extremely glad he really was not afraid of heights.

* * *

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I did mention adult themes, yes? Apologies for this chapter being a little short, I'll make up for it asap. Thanks to everyone for reading and the great reviews & etc.!_

* * *

Chapter 8

Apparently, Apollo Airlines retrieved a large share of their drugs via it's multiple passenger/cargo helicopter from boat drops off the coast. All Kathy explained was that they called Tony's position _fisherman_, since he was leaning out the side of the helo, casting down the rope and winching up the floating foam containers. He didn't need to know what was in the nine containers, and neither of the other two men involved in the retrieval or offloading would say what happened to their last fisherman, just that he was "gone". Their laughing comments in Spanish were enlightening, and made Tony glad this was a short-term undercover job. Apparently fishermen lasted as long as a drummer in Spinal Tap.

Offloading the helicopter at a remote private property field, Tony committed to memory the Ford 250's license plate number in case McGee hadn't already acquired that data somehow from the computers back at the airport. He also popped off and pocketed one tracer attached to the floating containers while offloading. Unfortunately, he didn't get an opportunity to attach the FDD to the laptop used by Ms. Oakley in the truck, seemingly for inventory. _No chance on my trial run here, but maybe next time… hope she's not just playing Angry Birds on that thing while we do the heavy lifting._

Ms. Kathy Oakley was very pleased with his "hot, sweaty" work, and paid him in cash upon dropping him off back at the motel. She tucked the bills deep in his pocket, helping herself to a thorough grope and initiating a deep kiss while she was at it. Tony had no major problem responding appropriately, although most of his slightly flustered reaction was that the stolen tracer was in his opposite pocket.

After such a very unexpected make-out session with his pushy employer, Saturday night's shift was unremarkable. Unfortunately, after catching the last few offices at Apollo with the FDD and snooping a little more with no significant results, he had nothing to do but his cover's job; listen to Rob bitch about his girlfriend, glean what he could from the man's gossip about the company… and dwell on the Wendy situation back in his own life.

_Maybe she's already agreed to turn over custody and is enrolling in some sort of counseling program. _

_Yep. And maybe Gibbs and I are going vegan Monday._

By Sunday morning he was looking forward to his lumpy bed more than he ever thought possible while wolfing down his breakfast/dinner of steak and eggs, hashbrowns and toast at the Waffle House again. His contact this morning was Ziva, who had a large carry-out order she needed his 'help' with. Mindful of any hidden observers, and Tony entirely believed Mr. Gould would be suspicious of him for weeks yet, they flirted at her car for several minutes. _I swear, I'm getting more action as somebody else than myself lately. But Ziva's way hotter than Kathy… not that I'd tell either of them that._

It was entirely realistic that she would write out her phone number on a piece of paper that she folded and tucked into his chest pocket. At that point it was also entirely realistic he held her hand and made his own transfer of the tracker, truck info, and a note with a brief sit rep that included - _previous "fishermen" murdered? chk empl rcds_.

Back at the motel, he read the contents of Ziva's note in Tim's handwriting before shredding and flushing it. _McG: only mapped out 40% mostly legal Apollo stuff. Ab: drugs matched (& b careful). Gb: stick w plan, ditch Mon am, Gould has men watching evry move outside wrk. Zv: Gb made McG liaison w DEA - 'personality issues'. _

And the new handwriting at the bottom of the note:_ u fill out ur jumpysuit nicely Terry._

* * *

Sunday afternoon went much the same as Saturday, except this time the call was earlier, the fishing job was for twice as many containers, and they flew to a different property far inland on a sod farm to unload. The laptop was still present, but again beyond his reach without drawing attention to himself.

And this time, upon bringing him back to the Sunset AeroView, Ms. Oakley wasn't satisfied with a grope session. As she pulled out his cash payment back in the ugly motel room, she coyly said, "Twice the work, twice the money... twice the action, don't you think Terry?"

Licking his lips and leering agreeably at her, Tony had second and third thoughts about going through with her obvious intentions. But overall, decided he didn't much mind the deceit at present; he consoled himself she was at least a definite criminal. Using her in this way was one more step in getting her to a jail cell from an undercover point of view. And he didn't particularly mind being used by her this way… not only was it part of his job, but she was at least hot even if it was in a fake Barbi-doll fashion. He slid her blouse aside to kiss her neck as her hands went straight to pulling up his damp t-shirt.

He couldn't help feeling sleazy twice over however - he knew perfectly well the room was under audio surveillance by NCIS… he'd planted that bug himself.

_Wait… what if this is part of my general freaking problem with relationships? Just because they're hot doesn't mean you should jump into bed if they want you._

_No, just stop. Not a question for now. Terry has no freaking relationship curse. He's just horny and a beautiful woman is more or less demanding sex; life is simple sometimes, just go with it. _

_Well damn… _

_That actually sounds a lot like my senior year of high school with Wendy. _

_OK! Stop it 'Terry' - get with the damn naked program!_

Although these thoughts briefly flew through his mind, all internal dilemmas ceased once the clothing started flying off. Tony then had an epiphany moment that he luckily translated to a passionate eagerness for his partner's tongue. Visualizing the laptop out in Kathy's vehicle, Tony saw an opportunity he quickly planned to take advantage of.

Although a half hour later 'call me Kathy now' was smiling and catching her breath while on the way to the bathroom, Tony was thinking how risky his next moves were. As soon as she had stepped into the shower, he quickly pulled on his dark boxers, pushed the unlock button on her car key fob, grabbed the FDD and dashed outside. Grateful no other visitors were stirring in the motel parking lot, he opened her car door and turned on the laptop. The wait for the laptop to finally wake up seemed unbearable. As he inserted the FDD, he thanked Tim more than ever that it was only two key strokes to activate.

Finally successful, he quickly retraced his steps, shutting down the laptop before locking the car doors, and then remembering to hang the "do not disturb" sign on the motel doorknob. Putting Kathy's keys and the FDD back quietly, he sauntered over just as she stepped half dressed out of the bathroom.

Pulling on her blouse, she said, "Was that the door I heard?"

He knew how to lay on just the right level of smarm to make sure she wouldn't stay. "It sure was Sugar. I put out the 'do not disturb' in case you wanted a second round." He ran his hands up her torso, pulling her closer, "I know I wouldn't mind at all."

She batted him off and finished dressing, "Eww, you're still all dirty fly boy, and you have to work tonight remember?"

Kathy laughed at his surprised-sounding "Oh damn… yeah!"

Smirking, she called over her shoulder while walking out the door, "In fact you'll need to scamper to make it on time. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

Relieved upon watching her through the curtains enter the car and drive off normally, his shoulders slumped and he rubbed his neck with fatigue. Sighing on the way to his shower, he looked forward to Monday more than she could possibly know.

_I'd count on seeing me tomorrow Kathy._

* * *

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: In U.S. military, "TDY" = Travel During the Year, aka Temporary Duty Yonder (really). Apologies if this chapter makes you dizzy, it just wrote itself this way. And thanks again to everyone for your patience and continued reading and reviewing!_

* * *

Chapter 9

Meanwhile, Sunday 5PM…

"I didn't even know Anthony was engaged Ms. Miller, how wonderful!"

"Oh please, call me Wendy Ma'am. And it's been long distance for so long I can't _wait_ for the big day to finally get here. That's why I couldn't believe it when I had a three day TDY for the Navy right here in D.C.! Close enough to finally come and surprise him with a nice romantic homemade dinner. He loves lasagna you know. Thanks so much for letting me in Mrs. Warjowski."

After she knocked to confirm Anthony wasn't home, the dear older woman unlocked the door while asking, "You miss him don't you sweetie? You have a sad look about you."

Giving the appearance of brave resolution, Wendy answered, "So much so, yes. It won't be long now though. Thank you again, have a good night."

Wendy closed the door behind the landlord and stepped into the quiet apartment. Wandering through each room, she touched the pillow on his bed… the suits in his closet. She aimlessly checked the contents of his refrigerator, then walked to his balcony and gazed out the sliding glass door at the sun low on the horizon.

_Where are you Tony?_

Her perpetual motion ended next to the couch, leaning on it's brown leather back. She was lost in thought, eyes blind to her surroundings. Silent and expressionless, her right hand pressing against her quivering lips and chin.

Until she fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

* * *

Apollo Airlines, Monday 2AM

Tony's Sunday night shift seemed especially anticlimactic after such a busy and… active afternoon. The FDD didn't even come out of it's hiding place in his work boot, and Tony was grateful Rob was so free with his energy drinks. Listening to the entire history of the man's continuing relationship drama, complete with pictures documenting the semi-happy couple's highs and lows, was a small price to pay.

Gould had stopped in early in the evening, allegedly just to pick something up from his office. Rob assured 'Terry' in a whisper he did it all the time to check that the night shift was actually doing work. Especially unsurprising tonight, when the owner of the company was on his semi-annual facilities inspection tour and was due to arrive in the early morning hours before attending a conference in town this week.

On leaving, Gould had barked at Rob to make sure the place was spotless, then looked at 'Terry' from head to toe with such knowing smirk Tony had to sigh internally. _Great, even Ratman thinks I'm equal parts stooge and whore. Can't wait for this to be over. God I hope it was just Abby or Tim listening to that bug… Abby will just ask me for details and Tim will probably stay beet red around me for a week._

Tony still snooped here and there, and listened to Rob's work gossip attentively, but he was eager for this role to be over. Still on his guard, he knew to keep eyes and ears open, that the ending of a successful undercover could be the most dangerous for an agent because of an assumption of security. But he also knew this was all over in about five hours, and that the laptop today should have gotten Tim the rest of what he needed on the IT side. Bad guys going down and he'd finally get to be himself again. He never loved his life more than when he wasn't able to be Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo for any length of time.

He was looking forward to the dawn.

* * *

MCRT Floor, Monday 2AM

"Boss, the new data Tony hooked us up with today? Well, I've narrowed down all the vehicles with the same GPS coordinates as the laptop for the past…" He was cut off with a word.

"McGee."

_This I don't need to read his aura to interpret: 'Skip to the end McGee.'_

"One of the trucks Apollo is using to transport drugs got stopped about twenty minutes ago by Metro for running a red light. Officer just called for multiple backup with silent alarm."

"If they found drugs in the vehicle…" Ziva stood from behind her desk and approached the two men.

Silence. Gibbs asked Tim, "Was it the one from yesterday Tony gave us the license plate on?"

McGee, "No, different vehicle, but it's probably the one he loaded today. The… yes, timing is right for where the truck was from 16:00-17:00, and matches the location during that time of the laptop, Tony and Oakley's cell phones."

Ziva said, "He may have to be pulled early if they think it is somehow related to their new employee."

"Ya think David?"

Multiple options and probabilities flew rapidly through Gibbs' mind. The DEA wanted all their ducks lined up before moving in tomorrow. That would be the same even if NCIS was handling the op alone. Pulling DiNozzo early without a damn good reason was not an option. Sometimes pulling an agent out of an undercover assignment could be the one thing that blows the case.

Requiring less consideration was the balance of faith in his agent's ability vs. concern for his survival. That familiar damned dichotomy seemed to happen in reference to at least one member of his team at least once per week.

_And the majority of the time it involves DiNozzo. Dammit Tony._

"We keep an eye on it for now. Nothing happens fast with Metro, may be hours before they get him processed. McGee, make sure Abby is backing you monitoring the bugs, security cameras and Apollo communications. When they give the driver his phone call, he may contact one of the primaries at Apollo. Abby's on the office phones, right?"

"Right Boss."

"Go work from down there, coordinate with her. If he calls, says anything that implicates _Terry_, we pull DiNozzo. He doesn't, but Apollo starts making any unusual moves this morning, we pull DiNozzo. Ziva, go gas up and pull around the car. I'll update Abby and meet you out front. McGee, warn the onsite surveillance DEA agents they'll have company shortly. We'll be nearby also in case things go south. If pulling DiNozzo with Ziva's Waffle House-floozy phone call doesn't work, we go in. Got it?"

Both agents began heading in opposite directions. "Got it Gibbs." "On it Boss."

* * *

DiNozzo Apartment, Sunday 6PM…

A large kitchen knife flashed in the dim reflected light from the dining room. It's bearer wandered between the bedroom, living room and kitchen over and over again. Tears still falling unnoticed, she whispered in snatches of sense, "What did I do Tony? Why is this happening to me? What did I _do_!"

The knife waved as she punctuated her points. Audience apparently alternating between an unseen jury, her former lovers and herself; the volume of her rant began to increase. "I was a godsend to those boys! A godsend! They needed me, none of you had a clue how to treat a woman. Enthusiasm alone only works for puppies, I taught you how to be men. And this is how you stab me in the back?"

"How could they do this to me? They should be thanking me just like they did back then, not making me lose my son. Not ruining my life!"

The crying had increased until the knife's wielder could scarcely see her surroundings anymore. "Why aren't you _here_ Tony? You're supposed to be_ here_!"

She buried the knife repeatedly in the top of the brown leather couch.

* * *

Columbia Executive Airport, Monday 4AM

Ziva focused the night vision binoculars as a Mercedes drove towards the Apollo Airlines hangar. "I think that is… yes - Vice President Gould Gibbs."

"Yep." Dialing his speed dial #2 without looking at the phone, Gibbs spoke abruptly, "McGee, regular schedule for Gould to be arriving at 04:00?"

"Not exactly Boss, but I do know the truck's driver hasn't contacted anyone from Apollo. He apparently ran the red light because he was drunk. Very stupid with a truck half full of illegal drugs in the back. They're going to give him his call in the morning after he sobers up. Apollo has a flight arriving at 04:15 from Chicago that does have the President of Apollo Airlines, Matt Jamil, aboard Boss. We haven't found any evidence he knows what's going on with the drugs. Jamil only visits this airport about three times a year. Maybe Gould is just meeting his Boss, making sure this visit goes smoothly?"

"Where is Oakley?"

"Ahh… she's sitting in a Starbucks surfing the web on the laptop Tony hooked us up with today Boss. That thing was a goldmine, the DEA is doing backflips. Last I talked to Agent Snead, DEA's expanding the warrants for Apollo operations in four cities they hadn't even know about before yesterday. They're waiting till mid-morning to move in Boss. She made it sound like it was purely to ensure our undercover Agent's safety, but it'll probably take them at least that long just to get coordinated for the final take down.

Gibbs grunted his opinion of Agent Snead before shutting his phone. He sighed quietly. "We wait."

* * *

DiNozzo Apartment, Sunday 9PM

The wandering angry figure had been reduced to a huddled form on the floor, leaning on the wood and stone coffee table. One arm was clenched around a worn and faded red Buckeyes hoodie jacket, damp from tears and mucus. The other arm rested on the coffee table, having shoved magazines and junk mail off to the floor. A shaking pen was in her hand. Her red eyes were so swollen it was hard to see the yellow pad of paper on the coffee table. Breath still coming in gasps as fresh waves of pain-filled crying still overcame her periodically.

Next to six yellow sheets of previous attempts at this letter, rested the large kitchen knife.

Shaky handwriting scratched on paper. _It must be true, there must be something wrong with me. I can't believe what I would have done tonight Tony. I was so mad Tony - so angry. I still am, but… I hadn't exactly planned to kill you, but if you'd been here…_

She broke off writing as the sobs overcame her again. As they finally tapered off, she rocked back and forth, clutching the soft jacket to her chest like a pillow. Wide eyes unseeing, she mumbled to herself for over an hour, tears falling unnoticed. Desperate hopelessness surged through her mind; golden memories darkened and future possibilities withered.

The rocking figure whispered, "No no no…" over and over again. Sometimes the words repeated in a monotone, sometimes a shriek.

She grabbed the pen again. _I should have married you Tony. Maybe I should have gone to Ohio with you way back when. I'd never have met those boys, never had such accusations made against me. I'm not a pervert for the love of god Tony! How could anyone think that? My own son will be told that someday!" _

The writing became more illegible.

_I can't bear it Tony. I just can't bear it. I can't face them. God forgive me._

* * *

tbc…


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Well, it's at least a little longer, if not faster. Thanks to all for reading, reviewing and generally supporting!_

* * *

Chapter 10

Although it wasn't in any way obvious, Gibbs' phone buzzing rescued him from the delayed-action boredom of this impromptu stakeout. _This was a hell of a lot easier back when I was a sniper._

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Boss - Oakley's on the move, looks like to the airport. Her shift starts at 06:00, so it's not quite an hour early."

In the quiet car, Ziva easily heard McGee's report. She reminded them both, "She often gets to work at odd hours Gibbs; she also often leaves for the day extremely early."

_Not enough then, but I don't like this._ "McGee, you listen to the audio bugs in there, or get Abby to read lips if security cameras pick Oakley or Gould up. You or Abby figure out who was supposed to be receiving the truck?

"Appears to be one of their two drop locations north of the city based both on the direction the truck was heading and the financials from the laptop. There was a delivery planned last night to a JNZ - a known drug dealer named Henry Johns called the driver's cellphone from up there. He left a general 'where are you' voicemail message half an hour ago."

"Keep on it, you get anything you let me know." Hanging up before McGee could reply, Gibbs wished he could oblige his gut, but there just wasn't enough reason to blow the operation before the DEA was ready to move in.

_Yet._ Gibbs thought grimly.

* * *

Gould had been leaning over the railing, watching the men below work. He met Kathy Oakley there on the walkway outside his office. Oakley spoke quietly so the men down in the hangar area wouldn't overhear. "Vernon, the truck still hasn't arrived in Philadelphia. My driver Julio hasn't called or texted me at all. He never does that, he's dependable as the sunrise as long as he gets his cut. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"You haven't called him, right?"

"Are you nuts? No, and I haven't dared to run the tracker on the one float box in the truck either. If someone traced that back to us… what if…"

Gould cut her off, "What if the Puerto Ricans have stolen our shipment? Julio may already be dead." The skin around his eyes and nose began twitching the way it often did when he was furious.

Kathy fell silent, puzzled. "Why would you think that? They haven't tried something that big before. I was thinking cops might…"

"But now they have an employee inside our company Kathy. A spy." They both turned to look downstairs at the other end of the hangar where Rob and 'Terry' were putting away the supplies used in the cleaning and restocking of President Jamil's Gulfstream.

For entirely selfish carnal reasons, Kathy leapt to Terry's defense knowing what Vern would think the necessary next step if he was right. "Vern, you're barking up the wrong tree. I searched his stuff in the motel room, we've monitored his communications, you've had him watched when he wasn't with me, and he's definitely not wearing a wire… anywhere. Trust me on that. Your guys confirmed he's had no contact with anyone but a floozy at Waffle House. And she even checked out, took the food back to a local shop and passed it out to co-workers."

Gould's beady eyes fixed on hers as he shook his head. "He worked for them before us, and now we're missing $40,000 worth of merchandise? That's all I need to know."

Kathy sighed, her partner's paranoia had probably saved their enterprise more than once, but this time she felt certain he was looking in the wrong direction. But if he wanted the hot new guy gone, then gone he would be. Gould could deal with the missing truck while she dealt with their former fisherman.

* * *

The helo side door slid open, revealing dark blue water in the early morning light below. As the noise escalated, Tony never heard the fire extinguisher being released from it's clamp behind him.

Eyes searching the water below, he called out over his shoulder, "We're low enough, but I can't see the boxes yet. Are we almost…"

He was cut off when the red canister struck his head from behind. He collapsed without a word.

Pulling his hands behind his back and zip-tieing them, Ms. Kathy Oakley said matter-of-factly, "I just can't bear to shoot you Terry, even if you're working for them. But you'll be dead in just a minute. Such a waste. This was probably going to happen in a month anyway. My guys I can vouch for, but Vern believes in high turnover, to put it mildly and..."

There was a noise… a kind of whine, impossible to label… but it reminded him of a Bob Dylan harmonica riff. One of the really annoying solos that he could never stand. Then there was rolling motion, and a sense of weightlessness. Through slit eyes he thought he saw a bright light, like rippling sunlight on water. It reminded him with a sharp pang of longing of the brightly lit rocking chair in Gibbs' dark basement.

_Peanuts and beer..._

_Oh. Light?_

_If that's sunlight, I made it to the dawn finally._

It was his last thought before plunging into the Atlantic Ocean.

* * *

Gibbs didn't like the situation. He'd never wanted to keep an appointment for breakfast at a Waffle House with his SFA as much as he did right now. His gut had been nagging him ever since he and Ziva had gotten in the car back at NCIS. And now they saw the helicopter return, but were at an awkward angle to see more.

"McGee, you got a view of who's getting out of the helo?"

Tim had been tired earlier in the pre-dawn hours; the team had mostly been keeping the same schedule as Tony to back him up. But he was now wide awake, and sounded loud and slightly panicked.

"Boss, we don't see Tony getting out of the helicopter. Unless he's still in it… but now the pilot just closed up. I have the entire flight path, everything seemed normal, they were over the same coordinates they did pickups in like a regular job, but didn't fly to a field for off loading this time. His phone is… off. Boss," he swallowed, "do you think they…"

"Get Abby on." Gibbs barked abruptly. A second later he was barking at her too, "Abby, what do your transponders say? Screw the risk of Apollo picking up the scan. Where is he?"

As she was pounding her keyboard in the background, she spoke rapidly, "The one in his watch isn't functional anymore. The one in his shoe is still at the pickup point Gibbs. It's the only waterproof one. God - he's been dumped in the water Gibbs!"

"McGee! You get the DEA's standby helicopter in the air _right now_. Get them to those coordinates or there'll be hell to pay. They let us down, you have a Navy helo ready to take off the second we arrive - we'll be back at the yard in twenty minutes."

"On it Boss!"

Over the sound of the agency sedan accelerating rapidly, Gibbs barked, "Ziva, get on the line with the DEA. Tell 'em they damn well better not lose Gould or Oakley. They better be in custody in an hour, or they're mine."

Gripping the overhead handle with one hand and dialing her cellphone with the other, Ziva answered grimly, "On it Gibbs."

Although efficiently relaying the information to the DEA, Ziva worried she may have made the wrong call about Oakley's early arrival. An understandable error. No one else on the team had disagreed with her... but she hoped it had not led to Tony's death.

* * *

_This was totally my favorite episode of Magnum P.I…_

…_except it was a lot cooler as a tv episode. I think the water must have tasted better… not so much salt in the Pacific? _

_And bet it was a lot warmer there. Nice sunny morning, I really would have thought the ocean would be warmer. Really freakin' cold here._

_Did Magnum have a concussion in that episode? There was a speed boat that hit his canoe… I think. Did he get whacked on the back of the head too? I'm sure I'd remember if it wasn't for the concussion. _

_I remember Rick and T.C. and Higgins all had a Gibbs' gut feeling that Magnum needed help and came and got him. Bet my friends know I need help too. Just gotta float, gonna come save…_

He threw up bile and seawater yet again. The first time he'd thrown up was when he'd awoken to seawater in his mouth and nose, and the surface of the water seemed a mile above his head. He'd barely managed to swim to the surface in time. His feet were free, but hands bound together behind him were a major obstacle. As was the pain on the back left side of his skull. Very few times did he ever wish he didn't have a heartbeat, but he'd give anything for the pounding reverberating through his entire heavy head to just _stop_.

The second time he'd vomited was when he'd contorted in a painfully unsuccessful attempt to slide his hands under his feet back in front of his body. That's when he discovered the entire left side of his body from head to knee had an ache he'd never experienced. _Maybe that's what hit the water first? Never wished to be covered in butter so much before. That one time in college was fun, but this time it would save me a world of pain trying to get my hands in front. _

_Need right boot. Something about right boot. _

Considering his massively heavy head, floating with no arms to balance with was becoming increasingly impossible, and for the first time Tony worried he might actually drown out here, alone. That spurred him to accomplish the wildly difficult contortion of arching backwards to not only reach his right boot from behind his body, but unlace it enough to pull it off, while not dropping it to the bottom of the ocean.

After rebalancing and catching his breath, he waited for the urge to vomit again to pass. Staring stupidly over his shoulder at the boot for what seemed like days, he finally remembered why he wanted it… and carefully withdrew the tiny knife hidden in the finger-pull leather along the ankle. Cutting through the zip-tie, his relief was massive as he could tread water easily at last.

Except now he wondered if his aching head was bleeding at all. And how close sharks might be. _Did Magnum have to deal with sharks? Are they attracted to barf in addition to blood?_

And now the throbbing heavy head made it difficult to determine if he could let the boot go. It was apparently still in his left hand. There was no question he was keeping the tiny knife in his right.

_Which boot had the transponder again Abby? God I wish you were here right now Abbs. Although, you'd hate all this sunlight with no parasol… or sunscreen. I've got the eternal base tan, don't have to worry so much about sunburn. But a tent would be nice, it's awfully bright. A hospitality tent, with the Orvis super soft blanket from my bed, and hot chocolate and potato chips… BBQ flavor. And watermelon. Think I'm entitled to weird cravings right now. _

_Which boot Abby? I can see your finger pointing. It's the same one as the FDD, yeah. And that's the left boot, thank god - just stay there boot. Don't care that you make treading water clunky down there. _

_Something's up with my left ear too, I think. Unless that's just my brain oozing out, hard to tell. Are sharks attracted to brain ooze? Would I still be talking to myself if my brain was oozing out? _

He let the right boot go gladly, and pulled his left foot up just long enough to tuck the small knife in between the boot's tongue and side. _Rather have a nick or two on my ankle than have no blade at all. And naturally everything that was in my pockets is long gone… except for this pen in my chest pocket. Seriously? Well, la-di-da for that. Maybe I can poke it in a shark's eye if I get attacked. _

_That's not going to happen. Think positive thoughts Anthony. Keep your chin up, right Gibbs? Literally… ha! Whole lot of water under it right now. Brr. Am I in shock or is it freaking cold? Think the answer is yes._

Treading water slowly, he fell into a light doze while attempting to appreciate any part of the glorious sunrise before him.

_All that pretty up there is too freaking bright. Couldn't we have a dark sunrise for once? Wait, that doesn't make much sense. _

_I keep thinking about that scene in the episode, when they showed how Magnum's boat was so close to him, but he couldn't see it. Wonder if there really were any floating containers around here, or if that was just excuse to keep me in the dark until last minute? Oh... dark sounds so good._

The swells were luckily none too choppy today; as long as he could stay afloat they should find him.

_T.C. will find me with his helicopter._

_Just got to hang..._

* * *

There was a terrible noise, and water blasted in his face before he felt arms supporting him.

_Or is that a really nice shark? Don't wanna stab… eye. Nice shark._

Finally able to stop treading water, he was soon able to stretch out flat in the basket the arms maneuvered him into. Every piece of his body felt as heavy as a sodden elephant.

The blue sky spun dizzily. A noisy dark helicopter above him became larger and larger with every blink. It was the last thing he saw before his eyelids grew too heavy to open.

* * *

tbc…


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Foul language alert! And huge thanks to all of you reading and reviewing. You can turn an entire day around. :)_

* * *

Chapter 11

Tim McGee spoke into his phone calmly, but quickly in order to get a word into the conversation while he parked and entered Tony's apartment building. "Abby - Gibbs wouldn't have sent me to pick up Tony some clothes if he wasn't leaving the hospital sometime soon, right? I'm telling you the truth; it's a severe concussion, burst eardrum, wrist abrasions, and serious bruises on probably half his body. But otherwise he's ok. His lungs are fine, o.k.? I mean he's majorly black and purple on most of his back left side, I saw it while they were shifting him to his bed, but the Doctor said he was amazingly lucky. You know how Navy Seals usually enter feet first from about that height? Well, the Doc said without doing it like that, being both unconscious and spinning was almost the ideal way to enter the water. No tensing up whatsoever, and the spinning made it a bit like a stuntman rolling out of a fall."

Tim pressed the button for the elevator, unsurprised when it didn't light up. It had been at least six months since he'd last been to Tony's apartment building, and the bulb was out then too. Not to mention the elevator itself. _No wonder Tony prefers to go to other people's homes instead of hearing us complain about his. My place is a little farther away, but at least it's well maintained for heaven's sake._

"I'm positive he won't hold it against you Abby. We did the best we could - no matter how much surveillance there is, sometimes you just can't see or hear what you need to. It's why undercover is just… dangerous sometimes. They were out of range of the audio bugs, and you couldn't see their mouths to lip read in the video feed. Don't worry, o.k.?"

He listened while waiting for the elevator to make any sound indicating it was working tonight. _Why on earth does Tony still live in this decrepit place?_

He tried to address Abby's frustration, "Hey, you'll have to take that up with Gibbs, o.k.? The DEA needs all our share of the evidence processed, duplicated and handed over ASAP now that they've moved in and shut down Apollo. They don't hurry up and let the portion of the business that wasn't involved in drug running open back up they get in trouble. When Ziva gets done with her reports, she's supposed to come help you. After I drop off these clothes I'm headed back there to finish up my reports too."

Shaking his head both at the quiet elevator and the noisy forensic scientist, he headed up the three flights of stairs to Tony's apartment. "No Abby, Gibbs didn't even want me there now. I was out in the waiting room by then, but between the concussion and some kind of medication mix-up Gibbs said Tony was, and I quote, 'feisty' when he finally woke up, and not fit for visitors yet. He was going to try and get him to stay in the hospital till morning, but wasn't too sure Tony would go for that. Hence, me getting the clothes tonight. I bet if he tries to get clothes on he'll tire out quick and fall asleep anyway. So Gibbs and Ducky wouldn't let you in if you went to the hospital anyway, o.k.?"

Listening on the last landing finally, he nodded his head, "I know. Pretty sure neither of us want to see him 'feisty', whatever that means. Had the impression that meant both physically and verbally. Gibbs was rubbing his hand and arm. Yeah. He can be nasty when he wants, rather not see that directed at any of us. And you know he'd feel terrible tomorrow if he hurt any of us or said something that upset you, right? So help us help him to help us, o.k.?"

Frowning in momentary confusion, he shook his head and said, "Look, I need to gather a bag together for him, so I'll see you in a little while, alright? I should have a better update then. Yeah, you too. Bye."

Smiling softly at Abby, he nonetheless gave the elevator a glare while walking past it down the hall to Tony's apartment. Turning the corner, he stopped abruptly in confusion… and dawning alarm.

* * *

Piece by piece, his body became known to him again. It seemed... confused. Some was cold, most was warm and essentially pain-free. And that seemed… wrong. There was always pain when he could feel throbbing from so many places.

His body was apparently propped on his right side with a great deal of soft cushioning. The cold parts were on his left side… odd.

Having been injured, and undercover, and in embarrassing bedroom scenes so often, taking inventory before letting any observers know he was awake was second nat…

"Welcome back DiNozzo. You gonna stay awake this time?"

Startled, Tony flinched, grabbed the wrist in his field of view and replied, "Well shit Boss... gimme some damn warning next time won't you?"

Gibbs and Ducky looked in concern at each other over Tony's bed as the younger man caught his breath.

Ducky spoke softly, anticipating Tony's unavoidable headache, "Anthony, you've woken up briefly two times so far my lad. How are you feeling at the moment?"

"Pretty fucking good Ducky, considering. Except some fuckwit dosed me with some kind of shit, didn't they? I'm not hurting… the… the right way? Fuck knows pain's there but not… right. And can I get a damn blanket on my left side? It's cold as hell." He closed his eyes again after a brief shiver.

Sighing patiently at the obvious symptom of… something worrisome, Gibbs shared a raised eyebrow and a nod with Ducky before the ME went in search of the doctor. Tony's overly tight grip on his wrist hadn't slackened and was probably going to leave bruises. Somehow that seemed fitting when half the younger man's body was covered in dark purple and black. Gibbs wondered if Tony still felt like he was floating in the ocean, and was clinging to him as a life preserver. The worried senior agent didn't mind at all, even if his hand already felt ice cold.

Deciding to do his own cognition test, Gibbs spoke quietly close to the sleepy blinking eyes, "DiNozzo?"

"Yeah Boss?"

"Glad you're awake. Now shut up. Got it?"

"Well, fuck you too Boss."

Smirking a bit, Gibbs reflected that sitting in cars patiently was harder than it used to be, but patience with his virtual children was rarely difficult. Especially an injured Tony, Gibbs had an entire well of patience designated especially for that.

"DiNozzo, you remember the second thing I ever taught you?

"Ahh… it was Rule #5, and then… oh. Have I been?"

"Say it."

"Federal Agents don't cuss casually, like I did as a cop."

"So you…?"

"Stopped. Got it Boss. Didn't realize I was…"

"Yeah, I know. You'll be fine, Ducky went for your Doc. You've got a concussion and you're cold on your left side because they're trying to keep the swelling down on your impact bruises with cold compress pads. Really big ones."

"O.k. Hey, were the fuckers… I mean the bad guys caught Boss?"

"Yeah. DEA rounded them all up in four states, and now there's enough evidence to lock 'em up tight. You did good. Just relax, your Doc will probably be here in a sec. I'll go see what Ducky's found out and be back in a few."

"O.k. Boss."

"Means you have to let my arm go Tony."

"Right. Right." Eyebrows furrowing, Tony's eyes were puzzled as his hand was still clenched around Gibbs' wrist.

_Yep. He many not have been in the water an hour, but it sure left it's mark. _Stretching, Gibbs picked up the pillow he'd used earlier in the day and placed it next to his wrist. "Try this."

There was a hesitation, but then the still-confused man was able to substitute his iron clench from the wrist to the pillow. He pulled it close to his chest, face full of apology and a tinge of embarrassment.

There being little unbruised-flesh currently available, Gibbs gently pet the fist clenched around the pillow. "It's o.k. Tony, just relax. It's all over."

Although Gibbs was glad to see Tony's shoulders unclench a bit, one head nod was all that answered him.

* * *

Walking out to the tail-end of an irate Dr. Mallard abrading the hospital staff, Gibbs waited with eyebrows raised. As Tony's Doctor and two nurses went in to examine the patient, he put a hand on Ducky's shoulder. "Duck?"

"The good people of this facility began giving Anthony medication before reading through his entire medical history. Admittedly, it did take Bethesda a short while to finally send the full records, and there is a remarkable amount to read through… How I regret the DEA's helicopter didn't deliver him straight to Bethesda, Jethro. When they told me here they had him on an anti-inflammatory I never dreamed…"

"Duck, what'd they do?"

"They've been giving him Fentanaril, a powerful anti-inflammatory mixed with pain relief, understandable against the inflammation inevitable after this level of bruising. A combination prescription which is one of the few acceptable for those with head injuries. One, however, that Anthony, while not technically _allergic_ to, does have an adverse _reaction_ to. As they would have seen from his visit to Bethesda in the sixth month of his NCIS employment."

Shaking his head in irritation, he continued scathingly, "His Doctor just now attempted to _explain_ to me that the abusive language could be a sign of brain damage, which he was already concerned about with Anthony's long torpor. But considering the dear lad had adapted to a night schedule, and he has surprisingly no significant intracranial swelling on any of the scans…"

He was cut off by a Gibbs eager to return to the 'dear lad's' room, "Duck, cut to the chase?"

"He was simply exhausted Jethro, sleeping off his night of labor and his morning of fighting for survival. The concussion is probably a third grade, significant, but not indicative of brain damage. The abusive language, and quite possibly a foul temper as we may have already seen, is purely a reaction to the medication, the same as I easily deduced at Bethesda all those many years ago. That was certainly rather shocking at the time; I'd had no idea he could become that vulgar. You were busy interrogating the perpetrator against Anthony - the operator of the backhoe you recall?"

Frowning, Gibbs' mental eye traveled inward and his eyebrows raised when the memory was located.

"So… when can he come home?" There was, to both men, only one home he was referring to.

"They will no doubt insist that he stays overnight with their concern about brain damage, and that might be easier for all concerned, the cold compresses should stay on until tomorrow morning. However, knowing Anthony's over eagerness for departing the hospital… if he regains and retains his alertness, his body still thinking he's to be awake at night, he could probably move to your home before dawn. Naturally, only if his perception and cognition tests are going well in the room right now. And with constant attendance of course. He will need the Traxam anti-inflammatory foam applied to the bruised areas, some mobility assistance and serious pain management for at least a week, Jethro. The ear and wrists have been treated and should do very well given time. He should be resting at home at _least_ a couple of days, and then on desk duty _at least_ two weeks after that. You realize these are the absolute minimums Jethro. More of both estimates would, as always with you and he, be better."

Shrugging, Gibbs' non-apologetic small grin actually smoothed both of them back to a comfortable state of normality.

Ducky's low voice was serious, "He was really terribly lucky you know Jethro."

The grin faded, and Gibbs swallowed before replying, "I know Duck."

* * *

tbc...


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Just to clarify, in case anyone was offended, I didn't mean to imply that all police cuss all the time by any means. Was entirely basing it off some groups of people feeding off the language of each other until it's constant casual cussing (I've worked in several places like this). I figure Tony would have been in a hurry to shed his boarding school background on going to college, and adopted the common language of any group he was with in order to blend in._

_Thanks for the reviews and support, and not losing patience with my speed in getting the story out, we're in the homestretch now!_

* * *

Chapter 12

Rubbing his eyes, Gibbs was glad this case was over from multiple points of view. Not only was it ordinarily risky for their undercover agent, but the team had discovered several missing persons associated with the local branch of Apollo Airlines - former employees and terminated 'fishermen' perhaps. Also, the rest of the team had rotated their shifts around the clock so DiNozzo would have 24hr backup… from NCIS. Snorting, Gibbs was still surprised at the idiocy of the DEA's Agent Snead, and the volume their 'discussion' had risen to - thinking _their_ backup of _his_ agent would be acceptable.

Having updated McGee in the waiting room and sent him off, Gibbs sat quietly next to DiNozzo's bed, nursing the dregs of a large cup of substandard coffee. Tony hadn't been sleeping deeply for the past hour, but whatever rest he was getting was better than none. He at least looked more comfortable, flat on his back finally. Gibbs hoped Tony switched back to a day schedule quickly. _I may even sleep in my bed while Tony's over for a few days. Been a long time since I looked forward to sleeping in a bed this much._

Ducky had stayed long enough to coordinate with the hospital's medical staff before leaving for his own rest. Tony's Doctor believed the bruised and battered man should stay and receive treatment until tomorrow. Ducky had explained to a bemused Dr. Sigerson the difficulty of retaining a DiNozzo left with any degree of mobility in the hospital.

Next to Gibbs, DiNozzo suddenly gasped and sat up abruptly, followed quickly by another gasp and short groan. Breathing slowing down, Tony curled to the right so one leg hung over the bed's edge. His wide eyes were still blinking like he was seeing something other than off-peach wall in front of him.

Without looking to his left, he said quietly, "Boss?"

"Yeah. You o.k.?"

Silent blinking answered him. Then, so quietly he was almost talking to himself, "She killed me. She thought she did anyway. She fucking clobbered me, tied my wrists, and dumped me off the damn helicopter. Not even 12 hours after we…"

Gibbs stayed silent. Even if there was something useful to say right now, he was unsure if his aching SFA would actually hear the words yet. Ducky had said the Fentanaril should be almost out of his system by now, but Gibbs wasn't surprised at his second's realization or the way he expressed it. _Had a feeling he'd have a problem with her being the one. Hoping he wouldn't think of it until he was feeling better. _

Starting to shake his head before stopping in pain, Tony's eyes eventually wandered over to his, "She… god knows I've been casual about sex in the past, but… that's just cold."

"Yeah. She's a criminal DiNozzo. May have had a soft spot for you though, there was a gun on the helo. And you were right about the other fishermen, she may have been involved in their disappearances and/or murders too."

Snorting softly, Tony's jaded voice replied, "Sure. Naturally."

Tony adjusted himself sitting on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot, before continuing in a mumble, "There's just something messed up with me and women…" He trailed off, speaking more to himself than his concerned observer.

Both were silent for several moments.

Tony roused himself from unwelcome introspection. "Everything square with the case?"

Gibbs nodded. "DEA didn't screw up. Go figure. Not even a shot fired, although Oakley knocked over a half empty barrel of waste oil trying to flee the scene. Sounds like she slid down the hangar in the stuff before they picked her up." They both smirked at that for a moment, before he continued, "Team's finishing up reports, duplicating right now. You can write up your report tomorrow, or dictate it to McGee."

"Debrief?"

Eyebrow raised, Gibbs said doubtfully, "You feel up to giving your statement now?"

"Night owl here Boss. Not feeling too sleepy right now, and need something to take my mind off the aches and pains and… stuff. Besides, it'll be enough of a stopgap for all the other reports to correlate with so the casework doesn't get hung up. DEA's in a hurry, right?"

"Yeah. How's your head?"

"Pretty muffled hearing on the left, and what's a little throbbing in the old cabeza? I'm just keeping time to my own little shitty song. Oh… damn. That stuff's worn off by now, right?"

"Probably." Gibbs nodded.

"Man, so easy to backslide once you get started. Done now Boss, I'll keep a grip on it for the statement."

"You got whacked in the head and dumped in the ocean DiNozzo, you're a little entitled." Gibbs' grin bolstered Tony's spirits that he'd done a good job… and reassured him he hadn't been seriously injured. _Hmm, so hard to get that man to smile sometimes. Falling out of a helicopter a small… well, a very big price to pay. But worth it._

Tony smiled to himself, "Anyway, so long as I don't sit up suddenly again the pain's ok. Although a tiny bit of medication about now would be… welcome, I guess."

"I'll stop by and tell the nurses on my way to go down to get the recorder from the car."

"You know Boss, I can get your phone to record me. Think it'll do about 30 minutes."

Gibbs' disbelieving look answered him, "And what do I use for a phone that whole time?"

"Well… or you can just take me straight home? I've got one there. And a really soft blanket that was calling to me all the way in the ocean. Blue king-size bit of heaven."

"Can tell you've got a concussion if you think you're going anywhere but my house after here. You get done with the statement, see how you're feeling after the next dose of pills, we'll see about getting you out of here."

"Boss, come on!"

Gibbs' phone buzzed on his way to the door, "And DiNozzo, you don't so much as leave that bed till I get back, got it?"

Tony's sullen voice answered him as he left the room, "Yes Boss. Don't dally o.k.? Unless they have donuts when you stop for coffee. You know I know that's where you're also going. Or even a muffin? Something chocolate Boss..."

Walking to the nurse station, Gibbs stopped a rapidly speaking McGee long enough to put in Tony's request with the nurse behind the desk and to suggest it was time for whatever food the Doctor had said was allowed. As he walked into the elevator, he held the phone back up. "Yeah, McGee, start over. Why can't you get Tony some clothes? Just pick soft stuff."

"Boss… Tony's apartment is a crime scene! There's tape on the door."

Gibbs was glad the elevator was already in motion. Few things dropped his eyebrows in a frown and froze him with shock like this. _The hell...?_

"I opened the door behind the tape, and I could see blood all over the rug in the living room, and some across the wood floor to the dining room too. I… I closed up again. Didn't want to disturb it until we know what the heck happened in there. Just talked to a neighbor, not amused at being woken up this time of night… or morning anyway. He said police and EMTs were there last night, I mean Sunday night. Took a woman out on a stretcher."

Running his fingers thru his hair as he walked to the parking deck, Gibbs had a bad feeling he knew who the woman was. He bit out, "At least it wasn't a body bag."

"Ah... yeah. Boss - I bet the police called Tony's work number, or his cell phone. I'm on the way to work now and I'll check both, follow up with Metro too. I could get Tony's clothes from his gym locker at work and still bring them afterwards?"

"No, you get back to work you need to finish up your reports ASAP. Yours and Abby's are vital to the case." Slamming the car door a little harder than necessary after retrieving the recorder, he thought for a moment.

"Find out what you can from Metro, explain he was undercover, and give them my number for contact. Then get back on the case - you've got to do Tony's & my job around there. Make sure Ziva's finished her report, review it and see how much help Abby needs. If she doesn't need Ziva tell her to go home. Ziver was next up for sleep anyway. Tell her Vance has given us a couple of days off after we wrap our part of the case."

Although distracted by all his new orders, Tim decided to covet the display of Gibbs' confidence in his abilities to handle things for him at NCIS until later. It certainly wasn't the first time it had happened, but they were rare enough Tim still treasured each one. "And if Metro wants to interview Tony Boss?"

_Christ, he doesn't need that right now._ "Tell 'em he's being discharged any time now. They can come to my house tomorrow late afternoon pending approval by his Doctor."

"Is he really being discharged Boss? That's great news, right? What'll he do for clothes? Abby'll be happy…"

Irritated at the whole situation, and short on sleep himself, Gibbs barked, "Of course he's not really being discharged McGee, it's 02:00! But he's already making noises about leaving, probably will hold off for at least an hour or so - making a debrief statement. Call me as soon as you know anything from Metro. I'll deal with the clothing situation." As he hung up abruptly, he stretched his neck and shoulders out, wondering why the hell it always had to pour when it rained.

Sighing, he let his nose lead him to the cafeteria and coffee, his previous fixes having been delivered by Ducky, Tim, or Ziva earlier in the day. Eyes landing on a fluffy pink teddy bear, he realized the only perk to not being at Bethesda might be the non-military gift shop.

_Wonder if DiNozzo'll start cussing again if I outfit him in Redskins gear?_

* * *

Clicking the digital recorder off, Tony shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed for a moment before asking Gibbs, "So… who was listening? To the motel bug Boss?"

Snorting, Gibbs replied, "You should be glad we wrestled that from the DEA. Abby happened to be on point right then. You alright with it?"

"Yeah, I guess. More alright with the chance to get the laptop mapped." He frowned before repeating curiously, "_Mapped._ Do geeks actually use that word, or is that just something Tim uses for us, so we understand it?

Perfectly willing to let Tony get away with the change of subject, Gibbs replied, "No telling. Probably the latter."

"It's a good thing he's on our side Boss."

"Oh yeah."

"So. Go now?"

"After that trip to the bathroom and back? You can barely walk DiNozzo. Sure you don't want to just get some rest till morning?"

"Yep, very. You look really tired Boss, we should head home. And in addition, the new pills are working awesome." Horrified, he stared at the digital recorder before turning to Gibbs, "Man - I didn't say anything about Magnum in my statement, did I?"

Amused blue eyes and a smirk answered him with a headshake.

"Thank god. Anyway, they also just rubbed that foam stuff on me which is feeling pretty good. Really helps me get past the horrible trauma of wearing Redskins team gear on top and bottom. Even the silk undies Boss?" He pressed the nurse-call button while shooting a sad puppy look at Gibbs.

Holding hands up blamelessly, the older man answered, "Softest stuff they had big enough to not press on those bruises much." He added, with an eyebrow raised in warning, "Coulda got you the Hello Kitty silk undies. Would've been matching slippers with them."

It took Tony more than a moment to shake off the opiate-enhanced horror of that entire concept. "Good god."

He blinked several times before taking a breath, and asked while waiting for the nurse to arrive, "Hey, can we still at least swing by my place? You don't have to tell me… I know, I seriously sound about four, but I want my blanket Boss. You would not believe how soft it is. And so blue… it's like… like start with your eyes, but go twice as dark. No, maybe one and a half times… yeah, like that. And since I have every intention of taking off these… um, slightly-less-awful-than-Hello Kitty clothes and sleeping in my altogether…"

He was cut off by the nurse's entry and began explaining to her in his current freeform abstract conversational style that he'd like the AMA forms now please. Thankfully, Ducky had already prepared the staff for this, or amused Nurse Linda would have taken far longer to understand the verbally meandering man.

As he listened to Tony explain in detail to Nurse Linda that yes, waiting a mere six hours was in fact too long, Gibbs felt temporarily saved by the bell. He knew leaving any hospital this way would distract the younger man for a short while. He was expecting the call from McGee any minute now with the details on what had happened in DiNozzo's apartment and had no intention of sharing it with Tony until he was feeling better… preferably after ten-plus hours of sleep.

* * *

tbc...


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Thanks everybody for the continuing support and reviews for the story - especially the folks I've missed sending a PM of thanks too this time. The dreaded RL has left me without much time for recreation lately, so wanted to focus on just story when possible. Possibly just two more chapters after this. Thanks again!_

* * *

Chapter 13

The ride to Gibbs' house was quiet and dark. Tony dozed, head resting on his curled right arm propped against the window. Getting from the hospital room down to and in the car had been vastly more difficult and painful than he'd imagined. Not that he'd voiced any complaint naturally; if he was going to be stuck healing for awhile he didn't want to be doing it in a hospital. But even with two pillows in the wheelchair, the sitting weight on his rear almost made him miss the weightlessness of the ocean. Almost.

In Gibbs' car, the eggfoam padding folded under him made sitting almost comfortable, and the sore man slipped deeper into sleep. Unfortunately, the rocking motion of the car had sent him into a new version of his recurring dream. Swimming across the tropical bay, seeing the corpses below in the water, then a riptide carrying him far out to sea before he could even scream for help. All alone treading water again, the beach just a hazy line in the distance. Then, a dark storm descended, churning waves well over his head. Lightening flashed, thunder rolled continuously, and someone grabbed both his wrists suddenly, clicking them into metal handcuffs. Glimpsing a woman behind him, he twisted to see Kathy Oakley laughing, "Try to get out of those flyboy!"

When a bumpy road knocked his head against the glass, rousing him from sleep, Tony found he didn't mind at all. Not only did he gratefully stop hearing Oakley's cackle of laughter, but something real and physical let him put the dream behind him quicker. Sighing with relief, he also appreciated the proof of solid ground, and that glorious thing called gravity. He was a huge fan of gravity now - no more floating for him.

Catching a few words he suddenly started paying attention to Gibbs' phone conversation. A difficult task because the hearing on his left side was still muffled. He'd already figured out the caller was Tim, but the rest was confusion.

Driving considerately at the speed limit, Gibbs steered with one hand through the nearly empty roads as he listened to Tim's rapid sit rep. "Boss, Metro left multiple messages for Tony to call about the incident in his apartment. Left a message on your desk phone too. I called a Detective Brody back, gave him the update and your cell number. I, uh, leaned on him Boss. I asked him for professional courtesy since Tony was currently injured in the line of duty. He told me it was Wendy Miller who tried to kill herself in the apartment. Sliced her left arm with a kitchen knife, then apparently changed her mind before managing to slice her right arm. She called 911 herself and slowed the bleeding with a hoodie jacket of Tony's. Det. Brody has her suicide note, the 911 call, and today got multiple statements, including Wendy's herself, and he's satisfied Tony's in the clear. He was more worried she'd done something to Tony when he couldn't be located."

Shaking his head ruefully, Gibbs said, "What's her condition now?"

"She's in the psychiatric ward of Medstar Hospital, in stable condition. Brody's apparently going to coordinate with the civil custody case judge. Obviously the ex-husband will be awarded immediate full time custody. The case will be dropped so Tony won't need to testify in court…"

All Tony had been really able to catch was "her condition" and "hospital" then he suddenly realized he couldn't remember seeing Ziva all day. _Christ, did they keep an injury from me? What the…_

With no small amount of pain he snatched the phone from Gibbs' hand and barked at McGee, "Probie, where the hell is Ziva? I thought you guys said she'd visited me when I was asleep. Is she alright?

"Tony! Ah… glad to hear you sounding…" Tim's stalling was cut off quickly.

"Probie! I know that sound in your voice. Speak McSquirmy!"

"Ziva's fine Tony, she's probably asleep at home already. She would have come to the hospital, but she was really overdue for sleep, and Gibbs said you were feisty and tomorrow would be…"

Tony sighed with relief and again cut off the younger man, "Okay, okay, Tim. And I'm always feisty, remember that. So who's in the hospital? Agent Snead alright?"

"She's fine. No problems there Tony. Ah. Could you… ah, hand the phone back to Gibbs for a second?"

"No." The '_Duh'_ was implied.

"Because... why?"

"You know why because. _Because_ I won't get the phone back. _Because_ it's a really bad idea to swipe the Boss's phone. I bet he'd have hurt me by now if I wasn't a giant eggplant with a head injury. Ooo, eggplant parmesan sounds really good… with garlic bread naturally..."

"Naturally. Please just hand the phone back for a second Tony? I need to make sure it's ok with him."

"This is you and me, Tim. You know he's ok with you doing what you have to do. Make like John Wayne and cough it up. What's the sit rep? I may be overly tenderized and briny, but I'm still an entree dammit."

"Entree? Yeah, okay. By the way, you're on the good stuff for pain, aren't you?"

"Timothy _Tony's-never-physically-harmed-me-yet_ McGee, so help me god..."

"Alright Tony, okay. Look, Sunday night, 1700, your landlord let in…"

When his second fell silent, Gibbs knew McGee was informing him what had happened. How his former molester and ex-fiancé had chosen his apartment to flake the hell out in and damn near kill herself. He could have swiped the phone without hurting DiNozzo… much. He'd actually been surprised when Tony had snatched the phone out of his hand; the exhausted younger man seemed completely out of it after finally getting settled into the car. But now that Tony had the phone, Gibbs knew there was no point in snatching it back. Tony had to find out sometime and wouldn't appreciate being actively lied to. Best to go ahead and get it over with.

Although what Ducky would say about this he dreaded hearing. And hear about it he would. It was understood if you checked out of the hospital early you were supposed to mind your health carefully for a few days. _What's Ducky gonna call this? Extreme mental agitation? Probably bad for his blood pressure or something. Not great for mine either DiNozzo._

When the phone was dropped back in his lap, Gibbs gave DiNozzo a stare, but the younger man's gaze was locked out the side window, cheekbone resting on his right hand. Picking up the phone, Gibbs found McGee was still connected.

"Boss, I… is he ok?"

"Would you be?" Gibbs was silent for a moment, but decided to let the young man off the hook. "It's alright McGee." Taking a hopefully energizing deep breath, he continued, "It's, what, just after 03:30? Duck said he'd call me at 04:00, find out whether he was checking on DiNozzo at my house or the hospital. I'll send the recorder back with him to you at work. You finish that up and you're off. Make sure everyone takes till Thursday, 08:00. Got it?"

"Got it Boss."

Hanging up, he glanced over at DiNozzo - no change there.

Turning onto his street finally, he heard Tony's quiet voice distinctly say, "Pretty messed up, huh Boss?"

"Yeah." He shook his head, at the stupidity of some people asking for grief in their lives when there was already plenty to go around. "At least now she'll get the help she shoulda been smart enough to ask for."

He could hear the overly-quiet man swallow before Tony's husky voice replied, "I guess."

* * *

Even with his right arm over Gibbs' strong shoulders and the help of painkillers, Tony had to stop the walk inside the house twice. The pain and dizziness were familiar, but he was just so tired all the sudden. Finally inside, Gibbs set down the hospital pharmacy bag and locked up his gun while Tony leaned against the side of the staircase banister. Although he was supposedly catching his breath and gathering strength for the climb to the guest bedroom... in fact his composure was fleeing him bewilderingly fast.

"C'mon Tony, sit down for a sec while I get the right pills before you go up to sleep."

"Nah Boss, I sit down… not getting up again for a while. Just gonna… rest a sec right here."

Gibbs walked into the kitchen, while Tony tried to get his bearings. His right arm looped through and held onto one of the cherry wood balusters. Right hip leaning against the staircase while his face rested against the back of his hand, he stared at the carpet runner on the stairs. Intently focusing on the worn, thin carpet, Tony tried desperately to not see the elephant waving it's trunk at him.

_Boss needs to vacuum the stair runner. And there's some scuff marks on the wood. He should do… whatever people... do about that._

His skin tingled as it felt like all his hairs stood on end. _Why the hell did she…? Why my place? Does she blame me? Did I do this? Kid could have lost his Mom, just like..._

When he saw the first wet drop fall on the stair tread below his face he couldn't identify it at first. Frowning, he puzzled over it's round shape illuminated by the distant kitchen light. When he saw the second appear next to it, he realized the elephant wouldn't be denied. He clenched the railing harder, closing his eyes almost as tightly, not seeing the third drop land. Or the fourth. Licking his lips, he tasted salt… not from the ocean this time.

_Oh damn Anthony. That's not supposed to happen… Houston we have a problem. _

_Dammit Wendy, why hon?_

He tried in vain to curse just the pain pills as he felt his breath catch and heard a muffled sob that could only have come from him. Something seemed wrong with his breathing. Feeling a warm calloused hand grip the back of this neck, he let it pull his head down to a shoulder that smelled of coffee and Gibbs and home.

And for all they were mostly silent, the tears just would not stop.

Words eventually spilled out, encouraged by a strong hand rubbing the unbruised half of his back. "I still love her Boss. Some stupid _stupid_ tiny part of me still loves her." He gasped a breath or two, and his left hand clenched the back of Gibbs' blue polo shirt tightly. "It wouldn't hurt this much if I didn't. What did I do? _What did I do to her?_"

The pain in Tony's voice was obvious, less so was the pain in his virtual Father's heart at hearing him torn up this way. Gibbs' voice was husky, but firm, "Hey! _Hey_ - stop that right now. _You _didn't do this. _You are not responsible for this._ You hear me?"

The gasped hitched breaths and swallowing sounded to Gibbs like a man trying to get a hold of himself. There was a tiny nod from the man in his arms.

"You _listen_ to me. This is hitting you like a ton of bricks because you're tired as hell, concussed, purple, and on pills. Her doing this will still bother you tomorrow, but it won't hurt you like this again. You got it Tony?"

Gibbs' words reverberated straight into his head, and sounded like some mythological voice of truth. The promise and hope the words gave him made Tony's automatic response far more heartfelt than usual, "Got you Gibbs."

Minutes passed silently. While the strong hand still rubbed his back as his breathing leveled out, Tony could hear the elephant plodding it's merry way out the door. The plodding had a familiar rhythm.

Without raising his head yet, he cleared his throat and said in a voice at least approaching his usual tone, "Gibbs… can we just pretend I was leaking like that because my left butt cheek is throbbing? Anybody'd get a little upset feeling their heartbeat on their ass, yeah?"

Gibbs' snort turned into a brief laugh, and he helped Tony stand up straight with a grin on his face. "Can see how that would be pretty alarming. Still keeping time to your own song, huh?" He used the palms of his hands to quickly wipe the dampness from Tony's cheeks, and his finger tapped a chin-up message afterwards.

The small grin this brought to the younger man's face might be also be described as a grimace, but Gibbs counted it as a success. Reaching up to the edge of a higher stair tread, he scooped back up the pills and glass of water he'd originally brought out for the patient. "Down these, then straight to bed with you. Ducky'll be here before you know it for a check up, then you're on the two hour concussion check drill."

With the consoling relief Gibbs had given him, and visits from large pachyderms, Tony's wakefulness was already fading fast. He swallowed the pills and replied, "Drill for you too. Get someone… work… Jimmy? Spell you so you sleep good."

Leaving the empty glass on the edge of the stair tread for now, Gibbs pulled Tony's arm over his shoulders again, and the men began their slow way up the staircase together.

"Purple, huh Boss?"

"Yep. Couple of days - you turn into walking rainbow, I bet Abby'll take some close-ups and put you up on her wall."

Gibbs didn't have to look at Tony's face to hear the smile in his soft reply, "Cool!"

After a quick stop in the bathroom, Gibbs helped Tony into the guest bed, perched as comfortably as possible on his right side. The hated Redskins underwear still on, and Gibbs' softest blanket tucked around him under the cover, Tony settled almost at once. He breathed out, "Thanks Boss."

Eyes growing heavy, Tony felt a hand on his head and heard, "And Tony, part of you'll always love her the way you remember her, even if that doesn't match who she really was. Let it go."

A sleepy "Yeah… hear you Boss," and nod answered him, the green eyes already closed.

* * *

tbc...


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Just an epilogue left after this biggie. I'll be on a vacation, with a borrowed laptop apparently no longer interested in typing entire sentences (grr), for the next week, so will update as soon as I can. I'll be getting my 'Thankful' on with family for the holiday here. Enormous thanks to all of you!_

* * *

Chapter 14

Late-morning Wednesday, his healing already making some progress, Tony carefully lowered his sore form into Gibbs' deep clawfooted tub. Relaxing at last, he patted the side fondly. The humble ancient cast iron tub had achieved a spectacularly magnificent place in his heart now that he was allowed to soak in warm, epson-salted water. The only two things not quite so magnificent; getting in and out of it. And then there was the unfortunate excessive time for drug-addled rumination while soaking. But he'd decided at breakfast to hold off on taking anything but over-the-counter pain relief during the day from now on. So at least today his head was more clear and the rambling should be… back to normal.

However, it seemed the excessive rumination swamped him even faster today, probably in relation to the visit by Detective Brody this morning. After speaking to Agent Gibbs by phone Tuesday afternoon, the considerate Metro detective had decided to give Agent DiNozzo more time before his official interview.

Shifting so the warm water could circulate, Tony idly looked at the many colors on the parts of him he could see. He massaged the less tender bruises to promote healing, while unavoidably finding his thoughts drawn back to the meeting. Attempting to skirt around that issue, he considered Detective Samuel Brody instead.

_Nice guy, seems like a decent Detective, although he could have tried a little harder to find me. Come on, one message to my Boss's desk phone when I hadn't called back yet? But then, the note implied she hadn't killed me. Anyway. Very be-whiskered. Yep. Guess we could call that an interesting cologne choice too. And that's all we're thinking about right now. _

_Yep. Letting it go._

Trying to remember the last time he'd taken a bath instead of a shower, Tony smiled to himself as he washed, feeling a bit like a kid again. He also smiled gently thinking about how the team was helping him out. Palmer and McGee had run by his apartment after being given the all clear by Metro. They'd picked up his super soft beloved blue blanket, laptop, some dvds, and packed him two suitcases full of mostly casual clothes. Gibbs had told them Tony would be staying at his house "for awhile."

Palmer was along to assist their patient, after delivery of his items, with applying the anti-inflammatory foam until Tony could reach it all easily himself. He was stopping by twice a day for application and any other support he could offer. Naturally, a loopy Tony had teased, "Blacklung, you're seeing my backside naked more than any dates I've had in weeks!"

Ziva had shown up while the men were in the apartment, looking at the scene they had read about in the incident report already. They had all frozen in the living room for a moment, staring at the stab wounds in the couch, and the blood. She'd said quietly, "He could easily have taken her, but... it is very good Tony was not here."

With equal solemnity, they agreed.

The smell already becoming a factor, they decided to take charge of the cleaning situation so Tony wouldn't have to. They elected Ziva would coordinate a professional cleaning company to deal with the blood as soon as possible. And during her highly amusing visit with Tony Tuesday afternoon, she was also pleased to be placed in charge of hunting out new residential options for him. Although it was initially a surprise to her that he'd decided to move, it was apparently welcome news to Tim, as in the background Ziva easily heard his muttered "Finally!"

Considering the quantity of painkiller in Tony's system at the time, Ziva decided to enlist Abby's help in both the search and deciphering instructions such as; "It has to have a view that doesn't smell like alley," and "My elephant and my car need to be comfortable in the garage: trunk room, you know?" The instructions about the domicile never having seen blood before, having an excellent security system and a landlord less gullible than a five year old were easy enough to understand.

As Tony awkwardly bathed, cautious of the sore wrists, he finally couldn't help but dwell on the Metro interview that morning. He was still amazed Wendy had stabbed his furniture before slashing herself. She used to be passionate sometimes, yes, but violent never. That kind of anger… every scenario he imagined if he had been there, trying to talk her down… most ended badly. Including the versions that involved them ending up in bed together, those were just… a different kind of bad.

That morning, after taking his statement, the tall, portly and vaguely walrus-like Detective Brody had allowed Tony to read the suicide note along with the incident report. After reading, Tony had handed it all wordlessly to Gibbs next to him on the couch. The Detective also passed along Wendy's verbal apologies for the damage and "drama" as she called it. She'd also approved him being told that she was not only in suicide/manic depression therapy, but also enrolled in a program for current or former child molesters.

_That still sounds too… heavy-handed for what she did. But technically it… _

He was, as always, grateful to hear Gibbs' voice in his head: _Let it go._

Emptying the cooled sudsy water and refilling the tub with fresh warm water, Tony had been trying hard to follow that advice. But shadowing his every step was the possibility that he'd had some kind of negative effect on the women in his life. And he had to take responsibility for that somehow if there really was an effect. Or was he just a symptom for some women? Is a magnet responsible for what it attracts?

_If it's waving itself around in a blade factory, maybe so?_

_That's two. Two that later tried to kill themselves. Maybe they weren't thinking right even back when they chose me. Maybe I was yet another of their bad choices in life? Do I really attract women with a screw loose already? Or maybe it was really some kind of effect actually caused by me? That sounds pretty wooly, but… What if they were okay before we slept together? Even if it was just that I wasn't as clear or smooth as I thought I was about not looking for more than a night or two..._

_Two confirmed. God, what if there have been others? How many women have I dated? Did any others… I should look into it. I have to look into it. _

He could see his thumping heartbeat in the twitching bathwater. It shocked him to think it might be true, to think what he might find. Background searches never scared him before...

But if there was one thing he knew when fear sent tingles through his body, making his fingertips cold: head straight for it, fast as you can.

* * *

Thursday afternoon, Tim's percolating curiosity could not be denied any longer.

Tony had struck up a compromise with Ducky; instead of taking half days Thursday and Friday, he agreed to a two-hour rest at lunchtime in Abby's lab. That way he could just carpool both ways with Gibbs to work, assuming there was no case. He was supposed to have stretched out on her futon, giving his bruises a break with a nap after lunch. But Abby had IM'ed Tim that upon arrival and gentle hugging, Tony had just asked for a laptop before laying on his belly, plugging in a flashdrive, and working on something while eating his tinfoil-wrapped sandwich. She'd mostly contacted Tim because she thought it was so cute Gibbs had probably made Tony's lunch; and told him to tell Gibbs Tony only ate about half of it, but drank the whole bottle of water.

Tim had snorted at that request. He knew better than to stir up certain parts of the team gestalt. He told on Tony; Tony was pissed at him plus Gibbs was cranky bastard all afternoon in general - more so than usual with his SFA on desk duty. This was one of those 'offer nothing unasked, if asked answer honestly' situations.

No, what had caught Tim's attention during Abby's caffeine fueled IM, was what on earth Tony was so diligently working on during his rest break. A lounging variation of Tetris or Angry Birds was expected, sure, but not actual work. Tony hadn't even been assigned any cold cases yet; a general consideration for those recovering from concussions.

And, having returned from Abby's lab, here he was again. Working. Quietly no less. Which made the younger man realize with mild alarm, he'd been quieter than usual all morning too, and not necessarily from the concussion or the general… eggplant ache. He'd dealt with that mostly by alternating between sitting, kneeling on a pad in front of his desk, and taking a couple of quick walks down the hall. Clearing it with Gibbs, Tony had called out, "Taking myself for walkies Boss," before getting the nod from the secretly amused senior agent.

Currently, Tony was back in his seat, filling in some kind of document diligently. When Gibbs and Ziva were called up to MTAC advise a team in Bagdad, Tim could not hold his tongue any longer.

"Tony, what are you working on? You're supposed to be taking it easy you know."

"Just typing up my memoirs McEnvious - think you can stand another agent on the bestsellers list? Green really isn't your color you know."

"C'mon Tony, I know you're working on something over there and I can tell it's a database of some kind. You know I could do whatever you're doing vastly faster, right?"

Head cocking to the side, Tony's eyes never left his monitor as he hit a save before saying over his shoulder, "Just because you're right means nothing. Aren't you glad we don't make you do all the computerizing around here just because you're faster?" His wagging finger caused the usual immediate reaction of rolling eyes from Tim.

Like any proper sibling, Tim knew right where to jab to get a reaction, "So it's obvious you still have a headache and…"

Tony cut him off predictably, glaring suspiciously over his shoulder, "Not obvious! At all Probie. Is it?"

Tim ignored him, predictably, "…and you're slogging thru something that's not a cold case over there. Let me help. You take a break. Take those pills you were supposed to with lunch."

Immediate tiny head shakes answered him before the words did. "It's nothing… official. Nothing having to do with work at all. Don't need any help, thanks anyway. And I took one of them. It'll probably kick in soon."

"Tony…" Tim replied slowly, very conscious of his tone.

The bruised man gripped his keyboard and mouse with a disbelief he was strangely used to by now. _How can he sound like a disappointed older brother scolding me with one word? He's ten years younger than me for heaven's sake._

Continuing mercilessly, Tim's eyebrows were up and head cocked forward, "Do I have to remind you of your own bucket list? 'Let friends in', remember? Come on - give. What are you working on?"

Tony's immediate startled eye contact was followed by bewildered blinking, and finally his eyes lowered to the floor as his shoulders slumped. Tim heard a quiet, "Shoot. Does that really mean…? Never should have let you guys see that thing."

Wheeling over to Tony's desk even before the deep sigh which signaled the older man's agreement, Tim waited expectantly. He thought, incorrectly, that he managed a neutral face instead of a smirk at his victory.

"Alright! Alright, McBadger. So… let's call it harmonic convergence mapping. What I'm trying to find is…"

* * *

Tim was grateful they hadn't been called out on a new case yet today. And that Gibbs was proving his omnipotence once again. He'd sent DiNozzo to autopsy with firm instructions to take his meds and stretch out on Ducky's cot for the hour before quitting time. He'd probably noticed Tony's increased squinting and discomfort at sitting or kneeling at his desk. _Or maybe Abby ratted Tony out directly to Gibbs. As long as it's not me getting grief I don't care._

But he had never imagined when he'd offered his help that he would be handed a flashdrive with a database document containing hundreds of women's names on it. Some with full names, a date range, occupation, phone number and even email address. Some of the women were just a first name, description and approximate date and location. The sheer quantity was mind boggling to the socially awkward younger man.

Gibbs suddenly appeared beside his desk, coffee cup in hand, asking quietly, "He got you working on this thing now?"

Glancing to confirm Ziva was still in MTAC, McGee answered hesitantly, "Ah… I pestered him to help with what he was working on. He asked me to keep it quiet. Just helping with some backgrounds on…"

"Bunch of women." Gibbs didn't say it like a question.

"Yeah. Did he talk to you about it?"

Tim thought he detected a slight sigh. "Not exactly. Was working a lot on his laptop at home. Not watching movies. Plus... talks a lot in his sleep when he's on those pain pills."

"Boss, he seems really concerned he's responsible somehow for both Wendy and that Brenda Bitner attempting suicide a few years ago. Now he's trying to see how many other women he dated may have gone off the deep end. It's just… no matter what we find, the data won't be even vaguely accurate. The source set is going to stay very incomplete for one. I mean, finding some blond "Nickie" he had a one night stand with back in 1998…" he threw up his hands, "then multiply that by a hundred. Minimum." Tim shook his head, still in amazement at the sheer number of women.

"Anyway, no matter what numbers we come up with that did eventually 'get wacky' as Tony put it… Boss, the causality just isn't there, it won't be any kind of proper statistics. But you know he'll probably take it that way. Whether it's 2% or 20%… I'm just worried Boss."

Gibbs' standard murmur, "Hmm," was still strangely reassuring to his distressed tech expert.

"But, I said I'd help, and he's still going to do this even if I didn't. So…" he shrugged, "When we get done, I'll explain correlation does not equal causation as clearly as I can, Boss."

"That'll be fine Tim." Gibbs wondered briefly if he should talk to Ducky about this. _Maybe that concussion knocked him into thinking there's something here to solve like a case. Hope not. Just gonna have to wait and see though. Turtle thinks it's got to cross that road no matter how many times you try and stop it. _

Sipping his coffee, Gibbs saw Tim quickly entering the results from a new successful search. A 'Heather' that had worked at the Highpoint Starbucks in Anacostia, Spring 2006, was now identified. The senior agent shook his head._ DiNozzo better not just be looking for more reasons to feel guilty or he'll be cleaning my basement for a month with a damn toothbrush._

Gibbs stepped a little closer to look at the database. Tim obligingly scrolled through to the bottom; a veterinarian apparently. Squinting at the total number of entries, he said quietly, "Without a case, even if you only got a quarter of that number to do mental health searches on…" he stopped for McGee to fill in the blank.

Nodding quickly, Tim had, as usual, already anticipated needs from the tech-side, "Make sure it's not traceable, understood Boss. I've already created a parallel secure connection for Tony and I to work on at the same time. People get mighty touchy about anyone looking into their health records. Tony told me he planned to destroy the whole database as soon as we finished, but I told him I could flush just the background info safely. For all we know, considering the trouble Tony gets into sometimes, we might need a list of possible suspects with something against him in the future."

Finishing the last of his coffee, Gibbs threw his cup in the trash can as he walked back to his desk. With a raised eyebrow, he said wryly, "You're not wrong McGee."

* * *

tbc


End file.
